Wednesday, June 8, 2022

Tangled, messy, joyous

It’s rock rose season in our little town: 
 they grow wild here, 
 and their scrubby-looking bushes 
 spread happily along the edges 
 of our beaches, pathways, streets, and farmlands. 
Over the winter it just looks like tangled brush, 
Like blackberries; messy and encroaching; 
Something one might wish to remove. 
And then suddenly, in June, 
 The small pink flowers are everywhere, 
Singing their song of the summer to come — 
Like so much of life: tangled, messy, 
And then sweet moments of joy…

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