No Apologies

Cut the Hydrangeas down right before spring

They must shed the wilted brown pompoms 

Even though they made it through the winter

Those wicked brown bunny tails are dead

Dead and done and not going to bloom again

Snip the stem at the juncture and the bush will 

Bud in new directions this year and who knows 

What colors will emerge from the green.

There are so many lives in this window box. 

So many years of not knowing what's next

Suppose that this season brings freedom from 

Forgiving. What if this time the bush blooms red?

Imagine a crown of scarlet hydrangea puffs

Bouncing on the head of the Equinox Queen 

This September. What if this time around there are no

Flowers at all just a blur of leaves scorched in 

The city's summer heat bouncing off the sidewalk

Cooled by a shadow cast by a watering can?

Suppose this is the last year for apologies.

No apologies and no flowers, just juicy berries 

Falling out of the window box and onto the 

Sidewalk, sticking to the soles of shoes 

Smelling like rot and feeding the squirrels.

There are so many maybes hiding in this box

Once we cut down the Hydrangeas.