Wild Fuchsia, Deora Dé, means God’s tears in Irish.
after “Guidebook,” by Claire Giblin, ink and acrylic on Yupo
for Adrianne Marcus

The petals open like silk umbrellas, the tiny
stamens bearing God’s tears. The way mine
bloomed this morning, reading the news
that you were gone, halfway around the world
in Dingle by the sea. Back home, we grow
fuchsias in pots, lose them as soon as frost
comes, but here, they tower over my head,
form thick hedges that line the narrow roads,
a tunnel of scarlet. You were both salty
and sweet, difficult and a good friend.
You would have loved these Wexford
strawberries in September,
even while you’d have scoffed at the thought
of growing them this far north. The hedgerows
move with the wind’s song: fluttering
ballerinas in crimson skirts, purple petticoats,
long long legs; their tiny toes
pointing toward earth.
~Barbara Crooker

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