Honey for My Soul
Does it matter that I know where the first globemallows will bloom along the wash each April?
Not to the globemallows. Their rose-orange blossoms will open whether I seek them out or not. When their appointed hour comes, nothing, neither my presence nor my absence, will keep the furled flowers from responding to the urgent summons programmed within each cell.
The blooming does not matter to those who mistakenly think that “mallows” means a mound of tempting confections lying on a plate, waiting to be savoured.
And the blooming certainly does not matter to those who fear the wilderness and its wanton ways.
But to me it matters, and to the spirits of this wasted place, because we have a common purpose: to celebrate each fleeting wonder rising like a tiny phoenix from dust and desolation.
elusive little blossoms
honey for my soul
Text and photo © 2012 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Photo: Globemallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua), Northern Arizona
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Posted on April 29, 2012, in Arizona, Floral Friday Fotos, haibun, haiku, Haiku Heights, I Heart Macro, Macro Monday, Mellow Yellow Monday, NaPoWriMo, Northern Arizona, One Single Impression, Postcards from Paradise, Shadow Shot Sunday 2, Straight Out of the Camera Sunday, Sunday Scribblings, The April Heights 2012, We Write Poems. Bookmark the permalink. 39 Comments.