The Moon, The Calico Rose and The Umbrella

We spend the day making a calico rose,
edged with damask, my granddaughter and I.

Eager to see if it grows,
she plants it in a raised bed in the garden.

When it rains, she puts a
small white umbrella over her nursery.

Nightfall, moon walks through the hedge,
shines her blue light on the flower,

dances in and out of trees,
dodges behind feather clouds.

Stars plummet as yellow hibiscus,
petals open, stalk increases in shadow.

Little hands bathe in the light
of even folds.