“Where the most beautiful wildflowers
grow, there man’s spirit is fed
and poets grow.”
–Henry David Thoreau
I’d like to plant some wildflowers,
sunshine wrapped by petals of snow,
a reminder of the glories of two
seasons — warm spring days
for lazy picnics at the park,
and the hours of frost
that beckon us in for cozy
hours before the hearth.
My garden of flowers
might also include solid yellow
bursts, reflections of full summer
that I’ll grow three feet high,
a wall of happiness for me
to share — small gifts,
tiny seasons you could carry
in your pocket or tuck
behind an ear.
–C.L. Fisher, May 2020
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