I can say agapanthus

And I know them well.

They come in blue or white.

But that's a family joke

Because

I was prompted to rehearse it

Ten dozen times.

Three times, in fact, whenever we passed one.

All these years later, I still sometimes do it,

Though only in my head.

 

            The name still sounds to me

            like some Roman or Etruscan

            sage or warrior.  Wasn't it

            "Agapanthus at the Bridge"? 

            Naah.

 

I also know a California poppy

When I see one,

Cala lilies, roses and

Usually

A fuchsia.

 

Otherwise, the names of flowers

Escape me.

And I despair of naming all the colors

Other than red, blue and pink.

Well, okay, I know white, too.

 

Some sage once said that

Intellectual growth consists of

Learning to make finer and finer discriminations.

So perhaps I'd appreciate the flowers more

If I would learn to tell them apart

By their names and precisely stated tints and shades.

 

I rationalize that

Enjoying a flower

Isn't exactly an intellectual pursuit.

 

Still,

What if the sage was right?