The Gardenia
By g.l. bass (the ghostbear still lives)



Heat in deep gray clouds

Seeps out of western

Daybreak horizon.

Heavy and overbearing,

Its breath drips

Off of you

From Inside out.

Heat crawls steeped

In sweet humidity

A parasite

Through each and every

Pore of your

Mind, body and soul.

Even your thoughts

Yearn for a truth

That runs cold.

But only a lumbering sun

Pulls its veiled

Auburn burden

High, up and over

Dark edges of

Noon day


I climb my way


Times alone,


I yearn for lightening

In the sky,

I pray for thunder

Across the gray


Where only weary

Promises tell me


Will come to cleanse

Life free again.

You cannot trust

What the wind


Through tops of trees.

You cannot depend on

Gusts of telltale breeze.




Truth and release

From burden

Comes without

Any warming,

And truth,

After all,

Is always found

In the aftermath

Of storm.


In the midst

Of these

Uneasy days,

Faith has

Its ways

Of reminding

You that

No matter

What lies

Flash across

The heavy

Gray skies,

There will


Be hope,

There will


Be promise,

And there

Will always

Be the truth

Upon which

Your heart

Can rely,

For to



Hidden, Soft and pure,

Around the corner of my house,

A fragrance whispers upon the promise of wind,

A secret of beauty, a silent truth of hope blossoms

Up from what once was a struggling, stricken life,

I thought dead, lost and nearly on the edge of forgotten,

While I had nearly given up on continually feeding,

Watering, tending, mending, pruning, and protecting

From spider mites, root rot, wilt and killing disease,

The Gardenia proves once more, why I should

Always believe in holding fast to faith, hope, and

The promise of Love. Nearly hidden within

Fading leaves, deep where I could barely

See, a flower blooms perfectly.

And a fragrance pure rises up

And blesses me.