LAST SUMMER’S BLOSSOMS

Daffodils sprout in the sun,

Mosses spread in the shadows of the wood lines,

Three-legged pine needles scatter across the ground,

Collect among low-lying bushes;

Pine cones sit at the feet of the trees’ trunks, and

Last summer’s blossoms, dried brown, on a snowball shrub,

Linger like desiccated memories held fast upon neural branches,

As sudden gusts of wind slowly erode each petal from

Last summer’s round froth bubbles,

A memory becomes fainter and fainter,

Edges blur and few kernels of the blooms remain,

Distorted and skewed from the motion of wind and time.

Stalks that bore them are leafless, dry strands that

Bear the weight of the newborn shoots and hold them

Above ground for a season of new baubles to reflect a sun’s light.  

© cmheuer, 2013