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bruised
He brought me some branches of magnolia
bruised by the fall, the snow and the frost.
Sitting in a vase near a sunny window, opening
ephemeral beauty, like ancient silk.
He brought me some branches of magnolia
bruised by the fall, the snow and the frost.
Sitting in a vase near a sunny window, opening
ephemeral beauty, like ancient silk.
Comments
All the more ephemeral with the storm damage, and all the more beautiful and precious.
Posted by: leslee | 15:42 21 April 2008
So lovely. I've sometimes been almost glad for storm-damaged blooms brought into the house - like an armful of delphinium stalks that toppled over once - I would never have cut them otherwise, and we enjoyed them so much in the house, up close.
Posted by: beth | 16:04 21 April 2008
"like ancient silk." Yes!
Posted by: Joan Rough | 17:08 21 April 2008
This is lovely. The comparison to silk is so tactile.
Posted by: mb | 20:03 21 April 2008
Thanks, all! Beth, I've had to do that too and it is lovely to bring flowers indoors. There are loads more on the tree to enjoy for awhile too.
Posted by: marja-leena | 21:30 21 April 2008
In this way
we seek
to redeem
our grief,
though
the branch
remains
sundered,
our deaths
hinted
in the
scent
of the
crushed
blossoms.
Posted by: poor_mad_peter | 03:59 22 April 2008
That's wonderful, Peter, thank you!
Posted by: marja-leena | 20:33 22 April 2008