Narcissus, aren’t you running a bit late? I feel your season is quite nearly past. The hour’s long gone for when we set our date. Take this reminder: spring doesn’t last.
The azaleas are all but faded; the dogwoods, too, have lost their bloom. I know my words sound a bit jaded, but you can’t expect our joy to resume.
The grass has grown a bit too long; you coyly wink at me from its depths. You’re coming on a little strong— our love has taken its last breaths!
And still your loving charms do entice… though your concept of time isn’t precise.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
In spring, find peace in forgetting it all while you gaze up into the greening trees; ignore it when the cares of the world call— just replace your worries with dreams.
Surely this is what life is supposed to be: comfort, ease, sun, blue sky and soft grass. Tell me, were we not made to be free to enjoy this life and sit on our ass?
But no, the stock market is in free fall and the world never seems to be at peace. We’re held, it seems, in misfortune’s thrall— we seek death until it grants us release.
If only the rest of the world could see what I see when I lay on my back and look up at a tree.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
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.