Wild Flower

 

Every night when I sing your songs
you close your petals and sleep.
They protect you from darkness,
but each dawn you open them
to the touch of light.

Your gentle presence draws me near
to hear your silent song.
In light you thrive and brighten
the land we share.

You bring the sun, rain, and stars—
the panorama plays in my mind.

You give four seasons—
the spring of blossom,
the summer of growth,
the fall of fulfillment,
the winter of longing.

There is another season, the fifth,
when I hold you in my heart—
to blossom, to grow, to reach fruition
and rest in my dreams—
as facets of you ever-present.

                         —Mike Bayles

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