by Darryl Price
I worry about my garden. I know there are
larger concerns lurking in the stale shadows than my limp little
flowers, things more pressing to the meeting of minds
than thick lush green leaves might bring, but this is my own greenish way of
giving the world my answer back in roots, or at least in a sense of some sure
rootedness. If I could plant a redwood or a
whole mountain of rock I would, certainly I would do it, yes and yes I would-- just for
you to enjoy. The wild world creates its own fields and that's just fine with
me, and yet I have these new little yellow flowers to simply
enjoy as company today-- I bought from China-- that I'm trying
to keep alive in the world of my kitchen, standing right up there in the window sil
before me. I don't know exactly where this hope always seems to
spring from. Still I believe in its simple enough
elegant purpose—to be. That's what I like so
much about the poems. There're so many varieties,
and they'll grow just about anywhere—you never
know where you'll find one next—or what they might do to
you, if you should decide to eat one or more. Well, could be nothing.
Maybe, or something. Maybe that's up to you. It's not
so much to go on, I suppose. I'm growing these
tiny yellow flowers, not for world domination,
not to get your rapt attention, not to
bomb you, not to take away your lands, not to fool
you in any way, not to rob you, not to trip
you out over a cliff, and they are so very sweet
to look at, with their softer than air floating petals, and
I hope somehow this makes a difference in the
way we go about our lives today. It already has,
for me at least. I've made the choice to give you some of my
flowers, inside these cupped words today. I hope you'll accept
them from me, and also enjoy their essence in your own homes, right away.
9
favs |
1360 views
8 comments |
366 words
All rights reserved. |
I'm going through a bit of a rough patch right now. No need to go into specifics, but I want you to know I get a tremendous joy out of reading all of your works and giving you something of my own to look at. I don't always comment as much as I used to and that's because I'm very much distracted by every day life right now. I'm usually in pretty good spirits, but recovery is slow, and sometimes I'm not all there. Still I thank you if you've visited any of my poems and stories, and I certainly welcome you at all times to the engagement of creative action we call the life of a writer. Be well and supportive of each other. My best wishes for your continued successes. Have you ever seen so much talent gathered in one place before? It's always been an honor to be a part of the tremendously wonderful Fictionaut community.
This story has no tags.
I certainly did. Thank you.
A gift of flowers.
I connect with this moment -
"I've made my choice to give you some of my
flowers inside these cupped words."
Good poem, DP. *
<3 <3
Always enjoy your presence.
(Speedy recovery!)
Your tremendous heart always shines in your work, Darryl. Keep your eyes on the light. *
********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************
I think Bill broke the screen with his asterisks, but it's that good. Best wishes to you, Darryl. *