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 the place I called Brimm Manor, well after the snows have retreated.
It seemed to outdo itself each year ... and I took great comfort in its abundance ... its splendor ... the quiet beauty that it brought to those who paused to consider it. I also did some paintings with it as the subject, and they grace our apartment now.
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