Out of the Dust
In an austere habitat
of nettles and weeds,
the sun scorches
any flowers or plants
that fail to acquiesce
to the desolate scene.
Pompous and contrary,
this desert does not
bother to feign a reason
for its predilection.
Between two rocks,
nascent buds hide
until the day . . .
Mariposa lilies bloom.
Mariposa Lillies -- The Painting Gardener
Dear Duane,
ReplyDeleteThank you for displaying my poem in such a beautiful way. I appreciate the time you put into publishing a wide cast of talent. May you continue to find success in your writing endeavors. Congratulations on your award!
Blessings,
Karen
I look at this poem metaphorically - people who either adapt to life and all the hardships it offers, or else give up without a struggle. Best regards // paul
ReplyDeleteDear Paul,
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for taking time to comment on my poem. We all struggle in some way or another. Glad you found the message.
Blessings,
Karen