Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Poem: Even The Last

Even The Last

You stand at the garden's edge,
looking at the color of iris,
a week past prime,
with their greenery edged with brown
and half of the flowers
now dead, their husks hanging
like cocoons long abandoned, and yet

a few flowers remain,
reminders of what was, and more,
a reminder that there is always beauty,
even now, even in this time of life
when you are no longer young
and so much of life has passed you by,

so much of the richness is dry and dead
like the irises that wave slowing in the May breeze,
and so you focus, not on the expanse of garden,
but on this one flower,
savoring it's richness,
it's vibrant determination of color,
and tender, velvet texture,

knowing every flower, even the last,
holds in it the promise of springs yet to come.

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The picture was taken in Manchester, Vermont. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

5 comments:

Derrick said...

Hi Tom,

I like that promise of Springs yet to come. We all need the reminder that beauty and fresh new growth are still to be enjoyed.

Tom Atkins said...

I think a lot of times we think because we've missed opportunities, or because we're of "a certain age" (I qualify for that one.), we tend to think the best has passed us by. And I just don't accept that theory.

Shadow said...

there's always a promise of the return... beautiful!

Lyn said...

Springs yet to come, one hopes..and perhaps memories of what was.. good and not so good..a life!

Delwyn said...

Hello Tom

It was nice to have you visit and catch up...

I like this poem of yours because it brings the general down into the particular...
When we are young we are looking for the big experiences,
the big wow, the great life and adventures...

and now the little moments of awe that can be found every day in nature, music, literature, a friend and in love are ample...in fact they are life in it's fullness and they spring forth each day...

Happy days