Each in Its Season
It is barely April
and the much maligned dandelion
is among the first arrivals.
She comes hurling herself at our lawns uninvited.
Is that why she is unwelcome?
Radiant little being!
Look at her glowing cheeks
and love her for her steadfast devotion.
Meanwhile, we watch impatiently
for our garden darlings:
the tender tulips of May
the pomp and peonies of June
the irises so independent
lilies lithe and lovely in July’s heat.
Following these divas
the umbels of elders flower
like points of sweet cream dappled in a basket
and the heady scent of valerian
soothes our sleep through open windows.
Soon Queen Anne’s lace
fringes every field and meadow
and ornamental jewelweed
sways tall and taller, pink and laughing
at the stalwart efforts and dense yellow of goldenrod.
And then the asters of August,
appearing right on time,
first as questions,
later as purple answers.
Each in its season.
Each with its reason.
Why here,
why now?
Choosing to live
is all.
janetngold 
I love this one. Thank you for sharing, my brilliant friend.
shelley thompson 88 east fork rd camden, me 04843 _______________________
c: 207.691.6848 e: shelley.thompson01@gmail.com
sent from my iPad
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P.S. It’s not enough to say I love this poem. It’s so much more than that. The first stanza, the much maligned dandelion, captures your spirit at its purest.
“She comes hurling herself at our lawns uninvited. / Is that why she is unwelcome?”
Yes, maybe that’s why we hate her so: she pops up everywhere—worst of all, in the middle of our precisely cut grass, so even, so fine—to disrupt our sense of order. She scoffs at our idea of perfection.
“Look at her glowing cheeks / and love her for her steadfast devotion.”
In these lines, so full of a love of life, I hear your voice, your wisdom, preserved forever for generations to come. I can see a future in which Gen C is forced to slow down for just a moment in another time of crisis yet to come. They will return to poetry for its simplicity, its humanity—just as I’m brushing up on the age-old practice of pressing flowers this morning in The New York Times.
Much love to you and to Stephen as a source of inspiration and support of your art.
shelley thompson 88 east fork rd camden, me 04843 _______________________
c: 207.691.6848 e: shelley.thompson01@gmail.com
sent from my iPad
>
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Such a botanical lexicon…a treasure
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