Purple Umbrellas

 Purple Umbrellas

Lift my spirit,
purple umbrellas.
Tiny pockets of twilight
perched above white hydrangeas,
keeping the sun from stealing
their porcelain blush.

In my sister's nascent garden,
everything is practicing:
buds learning to blossom,
bees tuning their buzzing,
breezes humming backup,
while the umbrellas sway
like flowers pretending to be birds.

They make me think of Mary Poppins,
drifting over London's rooftops,
her umbrella winking at the wind
as if every gust were in on the joke.

And surely, they're cousins
those merry umbrellas and Katya,

who is, by now, somewhere over the Gunks,
zipping through blue skies
with determination in her pockets
and laughter on her sleeve,

off once again
to rescue Gina
from yet another faux paw—
the kind that leaves everyone smiling,
tails wagging,
and the whole world blooming
just a little brighter.

Because gardens know the secret:

it takes only a splash of purple,
a pinch of whimsy,
and one well-timed umbrella
to turn an ordinary day
into a song.