Tags
Buddhism, Christianity, flowers, mystery, nature, personal, philosophy, spiritual
After the snow moves north
the prairie crocus,
native anemone,
ears of the earth
listens
for the rustle of summer.
Gently she sways
to moments of truth.
In her petals
the purple-blue mist
of far distant mountains;
a small golden sun
close to her heart.
Eternity
folds close around her,
warms her
from the cold winds
of spring.
…
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Dennis Cardiff 
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford.
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Thank you for sharing this wonderful poem, and many thanks for your wonderful work! Have a beautiful weekend! Michael
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Gorgeous,
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I’m so glad you liked this, Rene. The prairie crocus was my mother’s favorite flower. I remember her saying, “I saw my first crocus of the season so I know that Spring is not far off.”
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A lovely poem for a beautiful flower. Thank you Dennis!
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Reblogged this on House of Heart.
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Thank you so much Rene, I am greatly honored that you reblogged my poem. Your encouragement and support are always much appreciated.
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It’s always my pleasure Dennis. This is such a beautiful poem, thank you!
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