“Let the dance begin,” declares Iris, and roses join lilies on the dance floor; while daisies and buttercups, desirous, guard the violets we all adore!
Iris watches with stately grace the festivities of her royal ball. Spring proceeds at a hurried pace she vainly wishes she could forestall.
Daffodils have long ago passed— even dogwoods have gone to bed. The best of us are not made to last, she thinks with a shake of her head.
Each spring season must move on and make way for summer’s spawn.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
I’ve been writing a haiku and a sonnet, technically taking the inspiration for the haiku from something I see that day that I take a photo of, then expanding the thought in the sonnet the next day. Today, however, I was privileged to see a Polyphemus moth (I think) spreading her wings for the first time, and of course I was inspired to write about it. I thought about holding this for the next sonnet, but I decided yesterday’s theme of hidden beauty could carry on to this one. It’s as little stretch, but I think you’ll understand why I went ahead with it.
Sonnet 7
She Flies
Hidden beauty in springtime glade fearing the spotlight of the sun; new life can never persuade and it has no strength to run.
But watch as wings unfurl and warm, as moth leaves her cocoon behind— exquisite as she takes on her new form; as life opens up, she’s no longer blind.
Watch spellbound as she spreads divine wings and aims for the treetops, the clouds, the sky— like Icarus she would cast off earth’s strings now that she knows she knows how to fly!
Envy her freedom if you must but never try to tie her to the dust.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye
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.
Spring has its own kind of power, it gets straight from Apollo. April’s blessings blossom and shower along the flower path you follow.
How long has it been since you felt the sun shine on your shoulders, making you happy (like John used to say, in the yarn he spun)? Winter was so long and the weather, crappy.
In the evening, sit down to watch the star shine as the sky goes from blue to orange to black. No velvet cloth has ever been so fine as this background is for the zodiac.
Be still as the clouds gather for rain… With luck, it will only bring passing pain.
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
In case you need to hear this right now. Please don’t give up. Hope.
It Is Okay to Hope By Michelle Garren-Flye
It is okay to hope in the middle of the night; to whisper a prayer to the gods that be, and believe they can make everything right. You want to? That’s all right with me.
It is okay to try to find joy in your life, to look for the positive, to feel happy. Enjoy a sunset, forget all the strife. Watch the moonrise and get a little sappy.
Refuse to live your life in fear! Banish dismay, doubt, and despair! Hope will help keep your eyes clear even when all the world seems unfair.
Do what you need to find your own way; just remember hope is always okay.
Photo and poem copyright 2025 Michelle Garren-Flye