Oh Still the Hastening Bloom

Oh, still the hastening bloom

That crowns the summer’s day

I must hold its tender fold

Before it fades away

Oh, still the ticking clock

That peals the quickened hour

I must pause a bit because

I need to smell the flower

Oh, still the sassy breeze

That steals its fragrant leaf

And tucks to earth arboreal birth

With not one tear of grief

Oh, still the hastening bloom

Too soon its petals weep

For they as I, bud, bloom, then die

Restored to Heaven’s keep

© Janet Martin

Inside a birthday card I received she wrote ‘Bloom where you’re planted’.

On my run yesterday morning I was struck by the beauty in the wildflowers simply ‘blooming where they are planted’.