manipulated photo of my daffodils and Virginia bluebells
I love sunny May mornings, every one bringing new flowers to my shady garden. The bloodroot is finished, but the bluebells are ringing, and the lily of the valley is getting ready to bloom. I'll have to dig around for the trillium - it's there somewhere. While not so showy, the catnip at the back of the border on the sunny side of the house is fresh and pungent, making the cat's mornings happy, too.
Birth
by Charyl K. Zebfus, 2009 Wisconsin Poets Calendar
There are too many seeds
to break through the soil:
too many larvae
to spin their fine wings;
too many fledglings
to fit in the nest.
Yet nature continues
to swivel, dropping
another myriad.
It looks like bounty,
but rather, is miss,
miss and sometimes
hit. A messy
endless birth,
each living thing
spewed into carnal
form, an
individual
groping for its
infinitesimal
chance.
1 comment:
Your garden is phenomenal, Sherry--it looks enchant(ed)(ing).
The poem is wonderful too--if I wrote it, I'd have to say too many weeds!
But the "infinitesimal chance" part choked me up, especially since, all day, out my home office window, I could see the starlings' distress because my neighbor blocked up the end of his gutter where they had been going in and building their nests for two weeks!
I feel so distressed for them.
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