
C lear sky, morning light, H ouse finch singing in my line of sight— A ll make me long for yesterday, N ot the newness of today. G one are the blooms that stirred my heart, E very last one has fallen apart. B argaining can't undo or sway, R esurrect the grand bouquet; I vory tower designs cannot N egate Creator's higher thought. G oodness unfolds despite my gall, S eeds will form, then feed or fall. G rant me grace to bear the grief, R elease the burden of disbelief. I n time perhaps I may accept, E mbrace, delight in, and respect F lowers when they come, and flowers when they go.
Beautiful.
It would be an interesting parallel (perpendicular?) poem/contemplation to later to photograph/write something about “when grief turns to joy” — the bare branches to buds.