In harvest bronze the morning sun
gilds the whorling dill:
the year is old but be it known
that there’s a new day still.
And newness goes with every seed
into a time unknown,
bearing fragile hope
from the present that we own.
Oddments
In search of story
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October 8, 2020 at 9:55 am
Hope gets my two feet out of bed each day. 🙂 For years, I’ve tried to cultivate some Queen Anne’s Lace on the property border with no success. This year I had one stem with a couple of flowers. A few days ago I walked by it and ruffled the seeds hoping for more next year. Each season brings hope for the next one. Hope is a good thing – it keeps us going. Happy Thursday, Maureen, and thank you for the positive reminder. 🙂
October 8, 2020 at 10:28 am
I loved your first line: “Hope gets my two feet out of bed each day.” It is so! And hope is mighty weak these days. Nonetheless, there are seeds. And grandchildren. I will hope with you that the Queen Anne’s Lace will spread. That would be awesome on so many levels! Happy Thursday to you too, Judy!