California love blooms again in Georgia soil.
I planted them for her a long time ago—
Poppies, little bursts of color for my SoCal girl,
Rooted in red clay.
She smiled at me that first time we met,
Brightening and warming an already bright day.
I stood there powerless, holding this fierce angel—
Rooted in red clay.
She smiled when she saw their fiery blooms,
And melted at the sentimentality, as she melted me—
This beautiful earth mama becoming
Rooted in red clay.
Now they come back on their own, year after year,
Just like she does. All that growth from yesteryear
Leaves us twinkling bright spots, becoming
Rooted in red clay.
The first buds lean toward the sun, wrapped up tight,
Promising more radiance in darkness or light—
Reminding me, again and again, of the magic lying
Rooted in red clay.
