After working for hours, even days, on an intractable poem, trying to find the words to bring it to an ending that reaches beyond the predictable, I'm glad to walk outside and look down at whatever the season offers.
Mayapple, maybe.
Or a carpet of violets.
Wild geranium at the edge of the garden.
And then I look up at another carpet. A garden of cloud petals. No words needed. 
3 comments:
Mayapple ... one of my favorite wildflowers. Used to eat the mayapples, despite conflicting opinions as to whether they were poisonous.
Nature needs no words . . . but I'm glad you grapple with them to make your poems and to help us see what you see.
Kay, I know exactly what you mean. I do not know how many times the forest floor or the sky above saved me.
Today I've been looking at sundrops in the garden.
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