The fog yawns long and wide.
Flowers have given up the fight.
There is nowhere to hide
From grey’s terminal blight.
One tree withstands the night,
Growing to immense height.
No one else is in sight
to witness its lone fight.
Grey mist ends the...


The fog yawns long and wide.

Flowers have given up the fight.

There is nowhere to hide

From grey’s terminal blight.


One tree withstands the night,

Growing to immense height.

No one else is in sight

to witness its lone fight.


Grey mist ends the day.

Some color I must see.

Hanging in the grey,

Soft puffs of pink for me.





A touch of pink in the night.

I do not need too much light.

I sprout in the spring for you and me.

A prettier sight you will not see.




Safe and secure.

Beneath the bridge.

Rain splashing free.

Wild on its journey.

Watering the trees.

Filling the grass.

Life for the flowers.

Puddles for the concrete.

A splash.

A spray.

Cold on my face.


Surrounding me.

With life.


Watch it grow.
Watch it bloom.
Pretty rose.
Sweet perfume. 

The beautiful color.
Pink like cotton candy.
Facing the morning sun.
Happy as a dandy.

It is a bud.
When will it bloom
and open wide?
I hope it’s soon.

I’m ready for flowers.
I’m ready for spring.
Eager to see the buds.
Let the spring bells ring.

How about one rose?
The first bloom of the season.
That would be enough.
I think it’s within reason.




The beginning of an idea

takes root in your mind.

It grows up from the dirt,

reaching out to the unknown.

It grows in size and depth,

and sprouts forth with ideas.

Nurture its buds.

Savor in its fruits.

Delight in its flowers.

Let it grow to full height.


In midst of despair and sorrow
Rise buds of hope for the morrow.
Still standing upright and strong
Against all that can go wrong.

These are extreme times of confusion and change,
Media expanding over a broader range. 
We are attacked by sounds from each direction,
Leaving no time for thinking and reflection.

These flowers know what’s real,
They go by what they feel.
Away from the hustle and bustle,
They grow wild without any tussle.

A day to clear my cluttered mind is all I need.
To recharge my battery is what I should heed.
I’ll recharge in a quiet place like this.
A zest for life is what I dearly miss.

Leea coccinea ‘Rubra’ (West Indian Holly)

Source: Leea coccinea ‘Rubra’ (West Indian Holly)

Leea coccinea ‘Rubra’ (West Indian Holly)

Leea rubra

Leea coccinea ‘Rubra’ (West Indian Holly) Aka Red Leea, Leea guineense, and Hawaiian Holly, is an evergreen shrub that is native to Asia and tropical Africa, but has naturalized in Florida, Central and South America, as well as the Caribbean. It is an understory (planted underneath taller trees) species that grows in shady locations under the cover of taller trees. The genus was named by Linnaeus after James Lee, the Scottish nurseryman based in Hammersmith, London who introduced many new plant discoveries to England at the end of the 18th century. ‘Coccinea’ means ‘scarlet’.

Leea coccinea

Leea flowers are visited by a variety of potential insect pollinators, including flies, wasps, bees, butterflies, and beetles. Seeds and parts of plant are poisonous if ingested. Leea belongs to the Vitaceae family, the family of grapevines.

Leea coccinea ‘Rubra' (West Indian Holly)Outdoors it will grow to 6-20′ tall. Leaves 2- or 3-pinnate emerge light green but mature to a glossy dark green. Elliptic to lanceolate leaflets are 4-8″ long. Winter hardy to USDA Zones 10-11.

Leea coccinea

Tiny flowers (each to 1/8″ wide) appear in many-branched, domed cymes (to 8″ wide). Flowers are reddish-orange outside and a paler yellowish-orange inside. Flowers may bloom throughout the year in ideal growing conditions. Flowers are followed by rounded dark purple fruits (to 3/8″ diameter) which ripen to red.

Leea guineense

Leea guineense G. Don [as Leea coccinea Planchon] Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, vol. 88 [ser. 3, vol. 18]: t. 5299 (1862) [W.H. Fitch]









I live in the shadow of the moon.
I have grown and sprouted much too soon.
I will try with all my might
To live in the bright sunlight.
I close my eyes but yet I’m still here.
Sitting on a branch next to a pear.
My petals are white as snow
Because of this fact I know.
I will never be awake at day
No matter how hard I wish and pray.
For I live in the shadow of the moon
And I’m slated to sing the nightly tune.


Watch it bloom.
Watch it grow.
The pretty fragrance.
Sweet as perfume.
The beautiful color.
Pink like cotton candy.
Face to the sun.
As innocent as a child.
Soft petals.
Velvet to the touch.

When will it bloom?
How long do I have to wait?
Must I wait for the snow to fall?
Go away, snow.
I’ve had enough.
No more slush.
No more ice for me.

I’m ready for spring.
I’m ready for flowers.
I’m eager to see the first buds.
The first blooms of the season.
How about one little rose?
That would be enough.
Let it bloom.




Fresh and new.

Fragrant and pretty.

Ready to bud.

Slightly green.

But eager.

Eager for the sunshine.

Eager for the morning dew.

Eager for life.

The perfect way to be.

Good morning pretty flowers.