Woodspriestess: Summer’s Surrender

Tiny flowers of summer
Waving colorful flags
of the season’s surrender
against a backdrop of dry leaves

Lifting tender, hopeful
tenacious faces
parched but promising
a last hurrah
a final fling
a tiny majesty

Spots of glorious color
on dry ground

Proof of life’s own love affair with itself.

Speaking of love affairs, I had one with the tiny flowers of spring and I’m having another with the tiny flowers of summer. It is like a religious experience to me to discover the ever-changing tableau of what Nature has planted for us all season long. I love that these tiny flowers bloom whether I notice them or not. I love that they grow without me watering them or tending them. I love how they emerge in unlikely, unsuspecting places, such as the floor of the greenhouse or between cracks in stone or from piles of gravel. I love that they’re here, doing their own tiny thing, even as the leaves begin to fall from the trees and the winds shift towards autumn. They’re going to keep being beautiful, dang it, as long as they can. I’ve had a mini obsession with spotting them and taking pictures of them over the last two days. I don’t know the proper names for many of them and I also know that several of them turn into nuisance things like burs, but I see them. I’ve noticed and paid attention and this visual experience is my sweet reward. In this photo gallery, the only flowers pictured not planted by Nature are the roses, which are currently experiencing a delightful last hurrah as well, even after a major assault by Japanese beetles this year. Also pictured is a cute mushroom 🙂

Perhaps not coincidentally, I was also inspired to make some fresh new goddesses this week with a floral motif! (available in my updated etsy shop) 🙂

And, in past odes to tiny flowers I have known:

Woodspriestess: Tiny Flowers

Tiny flowers know
that hope blooms eternal
pushing the way
through cracked stone
reclaiming
repopulating
rebirthing the Earth

What is a seed
but a miracle
right in front of me

What am I
but a miracle
to be seeing this right now…

Woodspriestess: The Language of Spring

A blush of green begins

Delicate lace of wild plums
Graces gray forestscapes

Heartbeat in the forest sings
The passion of life untapped.
The soul of the world
is speaking the language of spring.

Woodspriestess: Stoneflower | Theapoetics

Like flower growing from rock
the world is full of tiny, perfect mysteries.
Secrets of heart and soul and landscape
guarded tenderly
taking root in hard crevices
stretching forth
in impossible silence.