by Alison Jennings

It's #tbt! Enjoy this great one from SWWIM Every Day's archives!

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The miniature pink rose is brightly blooming now,

but its spent flowers bow: she pinches these by hand.

This “tool” is banned by Sunset Gardening, which tells us how

to cut with clippers (a sacred cow), yet Alison can’t stand

to, when, you see, it’s grand to feel the plant allow

such gentle nips—anyhow, fingers crave a verdant land.

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Alison Jennings is a Seattle-based poet who worked as a journalist, accountant, and teacher before returning to poetry. She’s had over 100 poems published, including a mini-chapbook, in numerous places, such as Amethyst Review, Cathexis Northwest Press, Meat for Tea, Mslexia, Poetic Sun, Red Door, Society of Classical Poets, Sonic Boom, Stone Poetry, and The Raw Art Review. She has also won 3rd Place/Honorable Mention in several contests. See airandfirepoet/home.