Sunday, April 11, 2010

National Poetry Month














The Gardener 85

Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one
single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.

From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the
vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring
morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.

2 comments:

Paul said...

Very nice.... makes me want to leave work.... right now!

Karen Stray Nolting said...

Thanks, Mr. W. But I think you just want to get home to watch all YOUR birds! ;-> More to you later.