Blossoming

Blossoming

Watering from the sky gradually decreases

As summer waxes itself into existence.

And here I am looking at the flowers before me

Knowing, as I do, that now I have to depend

Upon that reservoir of water to keep them

Blossoming.

Even sunshine can be relentless without clouds

And clouds heavy and gray can bring a revival.

Is it paradoxical that we need them both?

Is it ironic that when the sun shines I crave

Rain with its heavy, chill that oppresses the soul’s

Blossoming?

Stored away like some mushroom in a dark chamber

Or sitting at a picnic table in sunshine

I ponder these seasons within myself, yearning

Never to be alone in darkness or the light

And paradoxically it is glimmering,

Blossoming.