We should not mind so small a flower –
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.
So spicy her Carnations nod-
So drunken, reel her Bees –
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees –
That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
Description
Meditating,
“quiet” on a rose that is losing blooms, because fall is now here. The
bees now full of pollen have left, “So drunken, reel her Bees”, and the
leaves fly off the branches, a peaceful pleasant sound of wind blowing
through a flute, “So silver steal a hundred flutes”. Feeling the breeze
brush against my cheek like a bird “bobolink” flying through the air
landing on a “throne” where I now stand, on the lawn, knowing in faith
this “flower” with roots in the earth, “gold”, will rise next spring.
“quiet” on a rose that is losing blooms, because fall is now here. The
bees now full of pollen have left, “So drunken, reel her Bees”, and the
leaves fly off the branches, a peaceful pleasant sound of wind blowing
through a flute, “So silver steal a hundred flutes”. Feeling the breeze
brush against my cheek like a bird “bobolink” flying through the air
landing on a “throne” where I now stand, on the lawn, knowing in faith
this “flower” with roots in the earth, “gold”, will rise next spring.
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LOVE!