Spring does indeed come early here in western Washington. Two weeks ago, we were enjoying summer-like weather in early March. Which is unusual, even for here.
The ornamental flowering trees were bursting with blooms, the sun was warm, and I walked for miles in shirtsleeves. Life was good.
Two weeks and several rainstorms later, and the blossoms are much worse for wear. In some places the fallen petals cover the sidewalks like snow. The weather is back to normal — cool and wet, and occasionally windy.
As I walked tonight, I saw the fallen flower petals and was reminded of an old poem, written more than 30 years ago.
PASSION LIKE A FLOWER
Passion like a flower must expire.
Nothing can be rigged to spare desire
From life’s rigors — magic nor petitions.
Petals fall to various conditions.When the dizzy petal-peak is past,
Some folks act as if the bloom could last,
Pick some wilting lilacs for their table,
Haul them homeward just to show they’re able,Plunk them in a fruit jar lately washed
Clean of last fall’s bounty, cooked and squashed —
Like they thought the glass itself had power
To delay the spoiling of the flower.It may work a day, two days, or so,
Then the smell and color start to go.
Nothing glassy can preserve desire;
Passion like a flower must expire.
Poetic Champions 