Within its Wake

Like snow from Winter's shaken bough
the flower fell, its pedals full
like thimbles welled with milk
together bound and spilling.
Bereft of wind to catch or carry,
soft the blossom tarried, loosed
with each the gentle drops of rain.
Above, the braided branch
abates in beauty, bare
where long the flower lay.

It seemed the moon's descending
far and full amidst the graying morn,
drowned as near the stars surrounding wept
and slept like snow upon the binding bough.

I silent watched it willfull stray,
away and lone wandering late the Summer morn.
While weaving beauty born within its wake,
it also saddness strung-
the many flowers aching stood to see its drifting,
parting 'midst its fullest bloom,
its silken pedals pure as virgin snow
and blessed with Godly grace.

All of nature,
each the ageless trees both leafed and pine,
bent to glimpse its dovelike face
as one by one it present passed.
As the tall Sunflower turns
to greet the waking sun and spend
the livelong day discerning late
its leap and fixing full its towered gaze
to bow and watch it set
to evening's hazel half-light,
so it turned to face the flower,
newly fallen, near and present passing-
so it bowed
as far the flower Western set.

Then joy; the trees resumed
their timbered tune and upward reaching.
The tall and golden flower skyward gazed
to taste the rush of rain
and sodden stand aright.
With long the lifting branch
where first the flower bloomed,
they each in turn rejoiced-

Some for change, some for growth,
but all for He who dipped His brush
and painted such a thing,
free of will to rise and wander;
such a blossom, the finest stroke
His gentle hand could bare.