Life and Death in a Season
My walks along the garden path become a lesson in nature as green stems pierce the earth promising blooms of yellow. Every day, I measure the growth. Soon long stems emerge among the leaves. I hold my breath—wait.
saffron petals face
the sun glorious and free
then fade, limp, and gone
All my anticipation rewarded, I savor each buttery bloom leaning valiantly toward the rising beams of morning. One, two, three days, maybe four, and I catch the demise of one petal. The end draws closer. In desperation, I cling to the bits of life.
. . .
Poetry is all that is worth remembering in life.
—William Hazlitt
My garden reflects the cycles of nature, of life—the plants, birds, wildlife, and me.
I cling to the bits of life.
I must let go, but not today.
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