Look at my yard, see all the weeds; it takes no time at all for them to grow. Surprising because I sowed no seeds— ’tis aggravating! I don’t want to mow!
But look, sprinkled in, the yellow and pink blooms well loved by butterfly and bee. They stop awhile to get a quick drink; it’d be a shame to deny them their glee.
I’ll put off the chore until tomorrow, and instead join the insects in the field. Forget the weeds, the troubles and sorrow; when I look at the flowers my soul is healed.
Seldom ever is there a field of waste— Beauty will grow in the same place.
Today is my birthday, so I wrote a poem. It’s still pretty rough, and it’s actually two poems since I’m still doing the sonnet-from-a-haiku thing. Anyway, here it is along with the photo I took that inspired it.
Misty morn in spring Sidewalk stretches steadily I’m caught in happy
Sidewalk Stroll on my birthday By Michelle Garren-Flye
Today, the day I turn fifty-something, I see the sidewalk stretch ahead, a true flower path on this day in spring, warmth after the winter we suffered.
I salute the sun, bathe in the breeze, meander about in midnight moonlight; happy to live for a moment at ease with nothing to mourn, no one to fight.
Grateful for all that gives my life spice because living too easy just makes you fat. For true happiness, you must pay a price and sometimes it will knock you down flat.
Today, I know I’ll follow my sidewalk to the end; I’ll round every corner, never hesitate at a bend.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
My mother, Geraldine “Gerry” Garren, 84, passed away two years ago on this day. I wrote this for her, but it was also inspired by others I know who are suffering. This month has been a cruel one for many.
I hope this will give someone hope, because I truly believe that if you love someone and they love you, death does not take that love. I don’t think it can.
This poem is my theory of what happens to that love…and why it makes your heart ache.
What Happens to the Love? By Michelle Garren-Flye
Losing you left all the edges: your love moved into my heart… god it hurts when it stretches.
Indelible, your love stresses; oh, can I bear this part? Losing you left me with edges.
Death can’t claim successes, so love moves in with art, causes aches as it stretches.
Accept the way it presses and tears your chest apart; losing someone leaves edges.
Patience, time progresses and lightens what once was hard. Just breathe as the heart stretches.
Grief is the way love compresses your love and mine as one in my heart. Yes, it hurts when it stretches, and sometimes I still feel the edges.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
I have been experimenting with haiku and sonnets. I have written sonnets based on haiku and haiku based on sonnets. I should probably make a note about which is which. I will eventually publish all of them (or all that are worthwhile, anyway), but of course, I can’t wait for that. Here’s my most recent attempt.
winter’s mossy wrap cannot hold back spring blossoms riotous reform
Spring Scheming
Winter’s moss won’t hold me back! No, in spring I’ll bloom anyway. When the night is less black and winds make new leaves sway.
Patchy growths won’t take me over. When the sun shines yellow and warm and bees buzz among the clover, our schemes begin to take form.
You see my buds emerge today and tomorrow they’ll only grow. Moss can’t hurt me; I won’t decay. Beauty is my power to bestow.
The world will soon be full of color; just wait, we’re staging a takeover.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 