Contributed by Nan Potts
Chickadees flit from branch to feeder,
Above the snowbound ground.
Beneath this frigid mantle sleeps,
Alive below the gelid heaps,
‘Waiting warmth and light that seeps
To melt this icy mound.
The sun soars to its celestial roost,
Its grand hand warms the land.
Snows recede to show what’s hid,
Beneath its funerary lid,
Life renews and Death is rid,
Begets a floral stand.
Day Lily shoots with averring roots,
Grow green and straight and strong.
They surge to bud destined blooms,
Urge vital heads from tuberous wombs,
To lusty bees hum sweet croons,
Air seducing songs.
Like many here, on dynamic spheres,
Who come and leave anon.
Although lives shortened they’ve led,
Their stories in tomes to be read,
While mortal frames shed,
Their value, judged in tears.
Seasons come and go, like peaks and combs,
The years go rolling on.
These endless cycles renew,
At times, reluctantly pass through,
For, we’re all wending anew,
From our cradles to tombs.
And,
The day lilies bloom.
