Behold, the Dogwood

I know, this new year has hardly begun, and I'm already looking at the calendar for reassurance that ... well, spring is coming ... even though that means summer weather ... with its searing temperatures ... is lurking somewhere on down the line.

When summer comes sizzling in, I try to nestle into a bed of cooling thoughts ... about winter ... about autumn (one of my all-time favorites) ... and ... yes, spring.

Spring also brings to mind the struggling little dogwood that stands on the front lawn of Brimm Manor ... near the sloping driveway where The Little Red Car comes and goes ... on its various adventures.

Twice a year the little dogwood gives us a magnificent show ... particularly in the spring ... with its remarkable display of blossoms ... but again in the fall, too ... with its fiery red foliage.

I think today's poem pretty well tells its own story (and if you discover one of my "sermons" in it, well, so be it):

BEHOLD, THE DOGWOOD

Poor, struggling,
glorious little dogwood,
you have survived
drought and freezing,
even neglect, and yet
this year you bestow
an abundance of blossoms,
you teacher of lessons.
© 1996
(originally published in Capper's)

Today's word: teacher