I’ve come to be surrounded by the gingkos,
to let deep
I watch and wait with pen and camera,
hushed by bountiful brilliance,
these late bloomers
gone so quickly green to golden,
brushing anxious tangles from my mind with cheery bristles,
for the late bloomers that I love,
that I am.
As I flutter in this generous grove,
listening to balmy quiet,
tears unstuff themselves
and trickle down,
tired and sweet.
Yes, I still ache over stuck places
where I’m longing for lift
for my lovies,
…but LOOK, my soul, at this grove just yesterday green!
That is the way with gingkos.
And maybe, perhaps, with wings.
(Can you believe this place?
It’s about a mile from my house at an intersection…..each corner a grove of gingkos.
Their leaves are a very plain green until, almost overnight, they turn a gorgeous bright yellow.
They’re the late bloomers, the last to turn and show their splendor.
And it’s a FEAST when they do…spectacular! )