Thinking Of Flowers

Now wind torments the field,
turning the white surface back
on itself, back and back on itself,
like an animal licking a wound.

Nothing but white–the air, the light;
only one brown milkweed pod
bobbing in the gully, smallest
brown boat on the immense tide.

A single green sprouting thing
would restore me. . . .

Then think of the tall delphinium,
swaying, or the bee when it comes
to the tongue of the burgundy lily.

Jane Kenyon 1947-1995

This poem perfectly matches our landscape of snow and ice today, and with more than a month of winter to go, I thought we could all use a little sunshine.

Have a great weekend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

———> UP NEXT: Come along and watch as we make soap.

———>AND LATERWinter Sunrise over the prairie.

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