A Walk on the Wildflower Side by Mary Lou Meyers

My classmate Mary Lou has sent me a perfect first day of summer poem with photos by husband Dave. Thanx, Meyers!

The morning-glory bugles the arrival of dawn,
escaping into an entanglement on our deck.
My footsteps lead by scent alone to the mossy creek
with its clumps of peppermint;
to a field of red clover,
down to the black pond
with its fragrant water hyacinths.

Let me lie in the shaded meadow
with its unending carpet of violets and periwinkle;
the woodland with its bog orchids, trillium, and Fiddler fern.
Let me be surprised by the Jack in the Pulpit,
and don the fragile Lady Slipper!
Let me hunt for the bitter root of gentian,
greet the sunflower with its plain and unadorned openness
as though beauty once possessed escaped
leaving a pockmarked face.

Till I watched the crested cardinal’s balancing act,
hugging the slender green stem,
riding the yellow petals down to the ground
partaking of the satisfying seeds within.
Finally I understand how perfection is born
in its emerald-studded embrace.



In the midst of the sharp spines of thistle,


worthy of an explosion of hurt,
a star-burst purple face issues,
electrifying the landscape
saving the tortured being
from absence of meaning or utter disgrace.
Have you ever really seen a blue spruce
sprouting its burgeoning needles,
the shape like an airborne ballerina glassade,
Himmel blau+ organiza floating like a cloud of eager virgins
leaving behind their spring green chemises.

+Himmel blau–Heavenly blue

 


 


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