Arlene Corwin writes

 Words To Love: Burgeoning

It is July, year twenty twenty.

Summer sky has not been great.

One often wants what one can’t get.

There has been thunder, lightening,  storm, wind, rain -

Even hale!  Yet,

Garden and the forest burgeon:

Rhododendrons broadened, 

Sprouting unfamiliarly on roadside margins;

Upward, outward, inward, downward;

Grasses verdant, vari-colored,  

All hail to the weather god!

Fruits and bees, the reckoned with, the seasonal

Thinned out, not come as usual;

Normal berries, for example  -

Disappointing!  Very!

Fewer berries.  Ne'er a berry.

Yet, 

One must admit

This burgeoning is overwhelming;

Branch, bough, shoot, each flabbergasting.

Burgeoning is such a warming, loving, word.

Nature’s silent, secret growing. going on unheard,

Spectacularly self-effacing.