Not a tourist attraction,
rather for the native,
the most intimate vision,
the one learned in infancy
crawling the island terrain.
Like the country you are
named for, used to being un-
noticed for centuries at sea,
bloom in a labyrinth of green,
the sighting of your petals
always viewed as a sign
of petite tenacity, strength.
Never gathered for bouquets,
fragrance, floppy garden hats,
you call us back to days
before imported, boastful
orange/pink plants tuned
Bermudiana yellow/purple
down into signs of quiet
endurance and a patience.
Like ocean breezes you
know the limestone contours
fennel stick patches, sage
bush ravines of the land,
where the small daily passions
of a marriage scatter moments
of illumination, grow in
the difficult tenacious soil.
Violet blue eye reflects back
the inky tide around rocks,
shoals, with curling surf,
like verdant waving lines
of grasses. Picked, provides
the deep silky colour of night,
from which a star shoots high.
~ Nancy Anne Miller
Bermudian poet Nancy Anne Miller has three collections: ‘Somersault’ (Guernica Editions), ‘Because There Was No Sea’ (Anaphora Literary Press), ‘Immigrant’s Autumn’ (Aldrich Press). She is a MacDowell Fellow published in a wide range of international magazines, including Edinburgh Review, Poetry Salzburg Review, Agenda and The Caribbean writer. She has poems forthcoming in Wasafiri and Arts Journal (GY). She teaches workshops in Bermuda.