Sweet, brilliant flowers
Reaching, growing,
Always turning toward the sun
Free to sway with
Each gentle breeze
Opening as each day’s begun.
Fragile, though.
Vulnerable
To weather’s wrath.
Uncontrollable forces
That rip at, burn,
And smash.
Storms rage.
Winds whip angrily
Hour after hour after hour.
Clouds burst.
Rain pours down
On all the gentle flowers.
Flowers try to hold on
To their bloom,
But petals drop and scatter.
The ground
Absorbs what it can
But to the rain, the ground doesn’t matter.
The storms damage
Lay strewn all around
Leaves hang heavy with grief
Still the sun pushes through
Radiating warmth
The earth gives a sigh of relief.
Seeds drop
And spread
On rain-soaked ground
Laying in wait.
Preparing.
Quietly. Not making a sound
While the sun
Works mightily
To push away the cloud.
The roots
Link arms underground
Preparing to rise again, mighty and proud.
Begin Again 