Bulbs and buried beauty…

new day pics
One blooming hyacinth
has smiled at me in purple
for almost two weeks.
Spent now,  I tuck it’s bulb into the soil
to regroup for next Spring
and then stop by Pikes for another scoop
of bright hope with petals.
~tulips this week!(Thank God for birds and bulbs….soul vitamins

that replace what leaks out each winter.)
Later,  bent on soggy knees,
I run my hands over ice storm survivors
~oregano and thyme
still holding their oils to themselves.
The sages and mints are burned crisp and brown;
everything tender looks haggard and worn.
As I place the hothouse hyacinth in it’s harsh new digs
I wonder at the other bulbs long buried below.
Do they stress as the crocus and snowbells,
always fast out of the gate,
already push green fronds toward cold wintry sunshine?
Do they wonder “what’s wrong with me?”
Or fret that maybe if they’d organize more carefully
and work harder
and focus better
and manage time
and money
better
and learn faster
(and be less hormonal)
that they’d have a better shot
at being bright yellow
now?
Do they feel they ought to have sprouted
and panic that they’re late
and squirm and tug and wrestle
 for release,
despising their dormancy
as they overwinter,
overcrowded
beneath
the
hard
cold
ground?
Or are they not like me?
What are they doing down there anyway
that they rest so deeply and thoroughly,
relaxed with timing
and trust
until grace appears
and then quickly,
like daybreak,
they feel the surge
and ride the swells
up
up
and suddenly
pushing through rock hard ground
they explode into bloom.
Bending low I whisper
“how do you do it?”
“faith and patience,  baby
….faith and patience.”
simple words
lilies and birds
~restlessness reconsidered.