April 11, 2013

The wild rose        summer’s flower
along the fading path grows sweet
though it only lives & dies to itself
& spring’s unseen trilliums        in forest shade
are lost        only to us        if the haste
of our lives won’t let us pass
Such flamboyance draws things
on delicate wings        & never goes to waste
though like grass       soon withering

The scientist        in lab coat or hip-waders
knows        to seek meaning in what he observes
The poet suspects        the right metaphors
await her        astir in stream glisten
                        afloat in pond stillness
                        asleep in forest glade
for nature makes nothing in vain
Colour & camouflage        ash & flame
seem ready to re-ignite        as we listen