The garden’s harvested bounty
carries a weary spirit towards spring
in the colors of dried petals and the promise of seeds.


Seeds rest in husk beds
of their spring morning.


The lighthouse of flowers
shinning the way to happy days
for lost or weary souls.


When the right breeze blows
seeds will travel to their new homes.
A grand design determines time and place.

Ready Field

Tilled earth soaks up the sun
and waits for the seeds
of this season’s purpose to be planted.

Milk Weed

Seeds of generosity
fly away on Santa’s whiskers
before the first snow falls.

Cone Flowers

Gone are the purple petal skirts and crowns of gold
but your beauty and grace remain
and will be scattered by the wind.


Though she is gone, Marje’s morning glories
spend every summer with me through the miracle of seeds.
And as we did, when they come, I will count the blooms.

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