Flora, in Roman mythology, was the goddess of flowering plants.
Central Park, on her behalf, has exploded in Technicolor.
Standing on an Olmstead bridge (who along with Calvert Vaux, designed the park), I watch in awe while she sows her wild oats.
Trees are plush with pinks and purples, yellows and reds surrounded by Irish green.
Birds sit sentry as squirrels scoot past beckoning like furry hosts...hi there, may I take your coat? How nice of you to visit. Please, come see the view..
I will enjoy this season before nature strips her closets clean, like all women do who have the room.
The trees bare, the grass a barren brown, while I, awaiting spring, shiver silently in her stead.