“The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus (1922), Part One, XXI
Outside the youth center, between the liquor store
and the police station,
a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;
overflowing with blossomfoam,
like a sudsy mug of beer;
like a bride ripping off her clothes,
dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds,
so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.
It’s been doing that all week:
and throwing it away,
and making more.
by Tony Hoagland an excerpt of “A Color of the Sky”
from What Narcissism Means to Me (2003)
The raindrop is real; the color is a dream. 😊