Anon

September tugs at August

October overshadows September.


Leaves falling in August

a premature ejaculation of autumn

leaves one unfulfilled

and looking to September

for more.

More warmth, more comfort,

a lingering embrace

to hold on

to the moments of bliss.

As an adult, I love September

and August too.

It’s just too soon

to feel this cool

like the afterglow

dissipating before daylight,

or a lover

tacitly

closing the door.

September, where are you

in October’s shadow?

The tomatoes are as green

as my naiveté

the scarce flowers

say goodbye…

It’s too soon to feel this cool.

Sadness hangs in the air

like unripened fruit,

July leaves gyrating brown,

their youth lost

before prime.

 Not ready

to

let

go.

Summer is over

before full bloom —

the whirlwind pursuit

with lackluster end.

Dramatic photo of imposing clouds at sunset over lonely landscape

Nature Teacher: Appreciate what you have right now

My Magnificent Magnolia greets me as I sip a morning latte’ and bids me goodnight in the moonlight.  Standing gloriously amidst an evening rain or grey sky, her steadfast glow casts a brilliance though my window.  I am awash in awe.

4-26-19 April magnolia 004

We’ve been together for decades now — she being here long before I moved in.  Maturing into a queen of nature’s beauty, this Magnificent Magnolia is my focal point during morning Qigong, and before turning in to sleep, I give her one last loving look.

4-26-19 evening magnolia 004Too many times the formidable April rains scattered her petals to the ground by morning’s light or before I’ve arrived back home, a disappointment paralleled to not having a chance to say goodbye.

But, I understand the inevitable better now and  cherish each look at her grandeur.  It may be the last but it stirs me as profoundly as her first bloom.  Silently, she reminds me to appreciate what I have right now.  In a second, it can be gone.

 

 

Do you Expect More from Plants or People?

Some people say expectations set us up for disappointment.  But as a gardener I say, “I must have expectations for the fruits of my labor.  Otherwise, why would I plant?”  And more often than not, the final product — of abundant produce and beautiful bloomsfar exceeds my expectations.

Still, sometimes plant wilt.  Sometimes they become diseased.  Sometimes it’s excessive heat or too little rain that hinders the intended outcome.  But, while there is no guarantee, the end result is more true for plants than people.

How do you handle expectations?  Do you allow them to create a vision?  Do you have a blank slate, throw your hands up in the air and accept whatever comes?  Do you reserve expectations only for plant life or allow them to carry over to relationships?