The cactus is dead and thrown into the yard; it sits like citron on the patio edge, a coxcomb on concrete. I drink cranberry tea, plant some marigolds, and wait for dandelions to whisper my fortune, this secret language of flowers, hollyhocks through my day.
manageable imaginations
something more or less
manageable imaginations 
Nice! The Floral Offering.
Thanks B! It made me want to write flower poems, but I think I did that once during a Mayday blog writing extravaganza.