Christmas Flowering
An old kitchen dresser
stood against a wall
in the shed. Its drawers were full
of things that kept a small boy
occupied for hours.
Retired kitchen gadgets,
tools, balls of string
and a treasure trove
of discarded odds and ends
hoarded just in case
something there might
“come in handy one day”.
There was a drawer off limits
for little hands,
my grandmother's place for keeping
dahlia tubers safe and dry
for their winter sleep.
Brown paper bags held
the sacred cache.
Come spring they were taken
from their dark, musty crypt
for their yearly rebirth.
Planted in a square of garden
overlooked by the dining room
window, the tubers would
begin to stir in the warming sun.
By Christmas day, the first bright
blooms would blaze
extravagant color that could
be seen from the table
as we tucked into lunch
crowned in our paper hats.
To a child, it seemed like magic,
just pure magic.
Note.
Christmas in Australia
is, of course, in summer.
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