Gray and quietThe ashe magnolia has buds and
Is almost as tall as I am.
Five years ago it was tiny, in a pot
When I planted it for its promise of lush leaves
And purple, floppy blossoms
Growth can be silent
Under gray Sunday skies.
Like today.
When promise has to be remembered
Unless stumbled upon
Camera in my hand.
It is sunny here, but still blanketed in white. Very pretty but it's having a hard time reaching me today. I need to get out of the house, but there's nowhere to go...everything's closed. And I'm missing my family today--but tomorrow will be better, I hope.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is cleansing and beautiful in its melancholy.
ReplyDeleteLovely.
ReplyDeleteGrowth can be silent.
Love the last lines too.
So, are those just three huge buds, like on that one trunck? I've never seen such a thing. Seems hard to believe it's a living thing, a tree that will blossom. Looks like a stick just shoved in the ground. I'm so curious and can't wait to see it in bloom. Floppy purple!!!!
Love that you shared a poem about finding the forgotten promise of better days in a gray landscape with us today. Tree growth can be slow, but every tree planted is an investment in hope for the future. Thanks for reminding us.
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That's lovely, Mary. Love the idea of hidden promise stumbled upon :)
ReplyDeleteOh yes, exactly.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful .
Oh. I am so ready for spring! Thank you for the lovely words in that poem.
ReplyDeleteso much promise on this day...:)
ReplyDeleteI love your new header photo. The greens are so beautiful, which I have noticed while washing the dishes before.
ReplyDeleteGardening teaches us patience, doesn't it? Your post today reminds me of all the plants (and trees) I started in the past couple of years. I love the line, "Growth can be silent." This is good to remember here in Michigan, where spring doesn't usually arrive until mid-April!
ReplyDeleteahh..that made me a bit sad..because there wasa beautifull..huge more then 100 years old magnolia in front of my window when i was a child...my aunt who still lives where i grew up told me last year that the tree is sick..that it will die soon..this year he might blooms for the last time..
ReplyDeleteA promise kept. Is there anything more soothing to the soul? I love your poetry, just like a promise kept, soothing to the soul.
ReplyDeletegrowth can be silent, unless, of course, when it howls like a banshee.
ReplyDeletecan i just say, my dear ms moon, that when we were wee ones michelle and i ate off the set of dishes which you have represented in your header? the one on the left...
we did. i swear.
did one of them make their way south in a moving van, land in a goodwill, and finally make its way to your shelf? or is this the cousin of a dish off which we received sustenance???
Adrienne- Mr. Moon's mother gave me a set of dishes with that pattern. I barely have any left. Isn't it beautiful? I keep telling you we're kin somehow.
ReplyDeleteI noticed leaves on the blackberry today.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem. Lovely writer.
ReplyDeleteNow that is poetry I like.
ReplyDelete