Lemon Cake

What if there were a hanging flower

What if there were a hanging flower
so redolent when you walked by
you had to stop and push your nose
into its yellow heart and the garden
and birds and your mother's chitchat
would be overcome by a memory
of lemon cake served at your 4th
birthday party, or the afternoon
you stood at the edge of a path
to the river in early summer and sampled
the deep red salmonberries growing there,
or a moment under a red blanket in Alaska
in a longhouse full of smoke, eating bannock
spread with warm honey,  or a kiss
in the middle of a community hall
when you were twelve, the boy's checked shirt
smelling of sunscreen and tic tacs.
And what if your mother
found you like that, arms hanging
face uplifted, and cupped your elbow
to guide you away, stumbling a bit
brushing petals and pollen
from the sleeve of your coat
and from your cheeks
a dusting of gold.

---

This is one of my favourite poems about my youngest daughter, Yvonne. There are many as she came to us late in my life and during a time when I was writing a lot of poetry. This piece was after a visit we made to the Bloedel Conservatory in Vancouver’s Queen Elizabeth Park. We would go there on really bleak days and walk among the flowers and bright coloured birds.