Today's photo is just a sample ... a sip, if you will ... of the blossoms on the dogwood tree which graces the front lawn of Brimm Manor each year, well after the snows have retreated.
It seems to outdo itself each year ... and I take great comfort in its abundance ... its splendor ... the quiet beauty that it brings to those who pause to consider it. I've also done some paintings with it as the subject.
But the poem ... I think I sometimes get in the way of the poem by talking too much about it, instead of letting it speak for itself.
It's a bad habit, I know, and I'm trying to break it.
Still, there are times when I feel that just a few more words are needed ... to set the stage for the poem ... to give it a bit more depth.
Let me just say that I was thinking about this poem when I woke up.
As some of you know, I was reared by my grandparents. I learned early, I think, the meaning within the saying, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
There was a certain longing, a searching for explanations where there were none. I never knew, precisely, why I grew up with neither of my parents.
I did have my grandparents at my side, though, guiding me, nudging me on, hoping I would turn out OK.
Through it all I tried to search out and cling to earliest memories ... of both my parents ... and I have some which have helped to sustain me through the years.
Today's poem deals with one of those early memories.
It was so long ago,
perhaps in a dream,
or certainly before I knew
the meanings of words,
but I felt the music
of her fine soprano voice
caressing, soothing me,
and how I wish I could
sing that same gentle
song back to her now,
saying softly, sweetly,
simply, I love you.
(originally published in PKA's Advocate)
Today's word: soothing