Poetry Porch: Poetry

 

A bush of surprises
by Marge Piercy

Itís called a Cornelian cherry,
really a bush dogwood with smallish
blossoms the color of a school bus.

I planted it so many years ago I canít
remember. It sat there not dying
just growing imperceptibly at most.

I rarely noticed it, inconspicuous
as a dead leaf fallen in a flower bed.
Suddenly this spring I glance out

my office window and itís glorious,
taller than the shed it stands beside
burst totally into golden blossoms

out of wood, no leaves to hide them.
Late bloomer is a phrase that quite
hits a gong in my brain. Why now?

Why not? Maybe itís never too late
to wake up and give to the world
whatever youíve got to deliver.


Copyright © 2018 by Marge Piercy.