[My brain seems to have gone into hibernation with the first snows, so I am posting this poem from the past, a time when poems flowed faster than my fingers could keep up. My Muse is slower now. Some might say she is fast asleep:) So I'll share one of my moldy oldies, of which I have a fat binder full.]
1981
Does one ask
a flower to grow?
I just let it be,
letting it unfold
as it unfolds,
petal by petal,
carefully.
I take care
not to thwart
the solitary splendor
of its blooming,
remembering
a flower glows
just as brightly
in an empty lot
as when my eyes
turn upon it
to share
the sudden sweetness
of its garden plot.
As petals catch the wind
and dance under the sun
so do you glow.
Your beauty
casts a clear
and steady light
that does not dim,
and it shines more,
the more I come to know.
We touch elusively
as fragile stems
holding up heavy blooms,
nodding in the breeze.
The blooms are our two lives.
From underneath
their precarious weight
our hands emerge
like leaves.
Your solitude
speaks to
the peaceful
solitude
in me
and deep within
my quiet heart
I can feel
something gentle
yearn to be
set free.
