I wrote the following while attempting to write a music-impression poem.  For inspiration, I was listening to an album entitled, Koto Music of Japan.  And the first image the music inspired was of a blue rose blooming in snow.  I tried to move on to other images, but couldn’t.  So I turned off the music, and just let the words take their own direction.

Your Sister is Clever, and Neither are You

Scott ____

At the edge of the forest, a blue rose sprouts and blooms from beneath the deep snow.  And Mirinomi is the first to notice it.  She hurries back to the house, and steals the bouquet of red violets from the top of her sister’s flower-tower.  Upon returning, she rings the violets around the stem of the rose.  And it grows higher, and blooms bigger and wider–until it conceals the red violets.  And Mirinomi smiles–the blue rose will surely thrive now.  Yet at the house, she cannot eat her breakfast.  The top of the tower is so blaringly bare.  She must replace the red violets before her slothful sister awakes–even though the blue rose will surely die.  But as Mirinomi approaches the forest, she opens her mouth in a gape.  For the forest floor is blue with roses–as far as she can see.  And she cannot find the violets, because she cannot find the first rose.  So she gathers an armful of blue roses, revealing just a spot of snow–and bundles them into a bouquet on her way to the house.  Inside, while her older sister sleeps, Mirinomi tops the flower-tower with the blue roses–praying the color-change will go unnoticed.  And just as she sits to eat her cold breakfast, her sister staggers in–opening her mouth in a yawn.  Then she freezes–and so does Mirinomi.  For she notices the bouquet of blue roses atop her flower-tower.  Still, she says nothing–just moves her head, owl-like, attempting to discern what is different.  Finally, she shrugs her shoulders, and softly grunts.  And Mirinomi smiles again.  The switch is unbeknownst to her discriminating sister.  Yet unbeknownst to Mirinomi, outside at the edge of the forest, the red violets are now as blue as the rose bloom that conceals them–and have been, ever since the still-multiplying blue roses began to conceal the first one.


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