A Moment of Reflection

Is there any season as welcome as Spring? So far, this has been as close to a traditional Spring as we have had here in the mountains in a long time. Two Springs ago, we were robbed of Georgia's famous sweet peaches, blueberries and all manner of fruit delicacies by an early false Spring, followed by a hard freeze that lasted five days. Even the lovely dogwood blossoms sagged on their branches, and beautiful hostas changed overnight to something resembling boiled cabbage. Spring last year was skimpy, so much being damaged the year before, and the drought took its toll, also. But this year, we've had these wonderful rains to bring the daffodils into glorious bloom while it was still quite cold. The rains have brought wonderful blessings of new growth, but a little sadness from time to time. Hence, my little poem:

A Small Daffodil

On my stroll back from the mailbox,
I see the much needed rain has beaten
my daffodils' faces down into the mud.

It seems unfair that a bulb waits
so many months, and dares at last
to risk all, in fickle Spring.

Yesterday, this one turned ruffled cheeks
toward Sun for warmth, and hoped
for a kiss, but gray clouds moved by.

Today, I shake off the rain, or tears, from
damaged petals, but see the broken stem.
One day to live, one heartbreak to die.


So, I tried to honor my special small daffodil.