Once a Year
Be sure to live in vain dear. I wish I had.
Emily Dickinson
A birthday comes but once a year.
Today— mine brings the zinnia’s first bouquet:
Queen lime red, Sahara cherry,
salmon, and yellow flame.
Never true blues, yet who needs them
against an azure sky?
And though clouds blur this morning,
they embrace the heavens still.
I blow a kiss to Mother Earth—
the one who whispered to Emily D
to live in wonder, as I do here,
in dirt and nature.
The rest is passing mist.
8 thoughts on "Once a Year"
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What a beautiful poem with which to celebrate a birthday! “The rest is passing mist” — never truer words. And HBD!
Thank you, Bill!
Perfect last line!
Fun and colorful poem of celebration.
Beautiful poem- Happy Birthday!!!!
exquisite ending
Wonderful sensory details!
Happy birthday, happy garden of words!