A garland of cherry blossoms crown her hair
birds serenade her with their lilting air
the scent of hyacinth perfumes her steps
while the wind and the rain bow at her feet
who is she that the stars sigh at her glance
in whose heart wells eternal romance
O Virgin, O Queen, you gave birth to Spring
O Mother, O Blessed, cause of joy everlasting.
The garden is her ballroom
where she dances a dainty minuet
bobbing and turning
in her velveteen skirt.
How the sun beams at her
admiring her grace
while she blushes like a princess
meeting the eyes of her prince.
She shimmered and she danced
until she gave her final bow
in the midnight hour, sweet memories
into my heart she bestowed.
(It’s been a long time since I joined the Open Link Night. I have been mostly discouraged about my writing these days. It feels like I have used up all the words I know and I could not put them together in a new way. I am afraid that I am getting too comfortable about my uninspired stupor that I have to force myself this time to write anything.)
children picked for their mother
I do not know what it is with dandelions, but my children just love them. They pick up the blooms one by one and when their hands are full, they run screaming and proudly offer to me their bounty. :-) When that happens, I am always reminded of this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay:
Love in the Open Hand
Not in a silver casket cool with pearls Or rich with red corundum or with blue, Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls Have given their loves, I give my love to you; Not in a lovers’-knot, not in a ring Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain— Semper fidelis, where a secret spring Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain: Love in the open hand, no thing but that, Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt, As one should bring you cowslips in a hat Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt, I bring you, calling out as children do: “Look what I have!—And these are all for you.”