Did you know
there will be poppies
again this year?
It’s true. I’ve seen
their muted green fractals
stockpiling sunlight,
distilling it down
to its purest essence
before igniting
into slow motion fireworks.
In the end, isn’t this all
that’s required of you?
To drink in what you love,
to concentrate it
in the crucible of your body,
and, finally, to bloom.
This poem is from my book, The Wilderness That Bears Your Name, which offers poems to meet you in every season of life.
See all the details and where to get a copy here: