I was stumbling around
Trimming the weeds
Near the corner of the house.
As I turned to the side
I suddenly saw
Hiding behind
An old mock orange
A bright flash of red
Where nothing bright
Had appeared in years,
Nothing lovely.
An amaryllis
Missed by my spade
Three decades ago
When I planted the bush
Had somehow survived,
Tucked deep in the soil,
Hiding in shade,
Undisturbed;
And thirty years later
Conditions were right
Despite utter abuse
To bloom once again,
To bloom once again.
©2020 John I. Blair, 4/29/2020
No comments:
Post a Comment