What if days were berries
growing bright, whose sumptuous
juices blossomed only in Summer?
How sad it would be –
such limitations, disrespectful
of the creator to surmise
an inevitability of dormancy –
I will not believe it!
Our days are like seasons –
motivations and movement
fluctuating, weaving into
a tapestry of greater glory
There is no single season
of bloom – even berries resurrect.
There is no single season
of bloom – even berries resurrect….i.love this last line..its so inspiring and filled with so much hope.
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Thanks. Something we all need.
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Ah, yes! ❤️🦋🌀
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Thanks, Sheila.
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This was very good.
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Thank you so much.
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I love your suggestion that we are like the seasons, always changing. It gives me hope that I might blossom into another ‘summer’ even in the ‘autumn’ of my life. 🙂
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I think we cycle through the season’s several times and not in any necessary order. Lots of time yet, LuAnne!
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Great poem!😊
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Thank you!
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Bravo! Well written!
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Thank you Carol Anne!
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Love the ending, such a positive feeling. Last week a grade 2 student told me I look like her Great Grandma (Grandma I could live with, but great Grandma?) and today a grade one student pointed out that I looked like the illustration of the old lady in the book he was reading! I’m holding on to your words..there is no single season of bloom. lol
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Hold your head high – Grade 2’s have no idea!
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lol…Head’s high, I’m not running for the bottle of Clairol!!
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lol
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bravo!!!
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Thank you, Nancy
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