What Borders Say

A poem about borders for spidey's contest

A fluffy little ruffle of petunias
rounds each corner of the house
and heads down the walk, waving,
startling pink against grey stone.

Down the block,
a white, two-story home
with shutters and shrubbery that match,
has a row of ageratums and geraniums
that set off the bay window.
Ribbons of marigolds
march down the drive.

What do these borders say
about the people who live there?
They say beauty, and order and welcome,
far different from the borders of barbed wire
that mark a territory and
delineate the line that says
quite clearly,
“You stay over there.”

Still another kind of border
rims a sampler or quotation ,
or a poem in the paper
about Mom, who just turned 50.
It doesn’t say, “Come in,”
and it doesn’t say, “Stay out!”
It has its own vocabulary,
of “Attention!”
“Here I am!”
or maybe, with a flourish,
it proudly says, “Ta-Da!”