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  • Elf, you tiny thing, I almost walked by you.

    Two steps past you and your tiny elf kin, I doubled back at the garden show yesterday.

    Yellow, so pale, I celebrate you, but so tiny, an orchid like a tree for dots of imaginary creatures.

    Yellow orchid as small as my thumb, what do you know?

    I could put you in my pocket, hang you on my wrist, wear you as a lucky orchid charm, bangle you, show you off as my lonely corsage. Magenta heart, or is it violet?

    I call it violet. I call it pale yellow and violet.

    Less strong than the many-bloomed tinies showing in fair white and cream, and the hot purples, infinitely more miniscule than the full orchids I love, but beside you they look downright gigantic, almost clumsy (and no orchid is clumsy).

    Home you rode from the garden show, swaddled in your paper wrap. (The scent of a bouquet of yellow freesias on the dashboard to keep you company.)

    My elf orchid, tonight you sleep on a giant bed.

    Tonight you have the pale blue steel table in the front room all to yourself.

    Fair elf, you can sail on, on the steel blue all night.

    You will be my tiny companion in the morning. You will, won't you, join me for coffee?
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