Wild Flowers
By John Herlihy

Wild flowers are thrown down in random confusion,
A blizzard of natural color scattered in utter profusion.
Their faces opened up wide to the sunlight in joy,
Waving their delicate heads as an attractive ploy.
They seem to have tumbled into their own symmetry,
While retaining their wild nature and sublime purity.
Catch the purple bellflower as it nods its precious head;
It turns away in the wind to keep its holy freedom instead.

The rising scent of the blooms seem like a warm embrace;
Their expression of summer’s glory puts a smile on my face.
Two swallows are making passes amid the flowery blooms,
As if they go about frolicking in their own private rooms.
A chiffchaff’s melodic song pierces the clarity of air, anon,
Emerging from the sinewy gloom of the Cedar of Lebanon.
Here lay bouquets of wild flowers to enshrine life’s beauty;
I always treasure their endearing truth as my sacred duty.

The flowers simply lift themselves up and fall into my eyes,
As I look down upon the amazing scene with child’s eyes.
Children always instinctively appreciate God’s wisdom,
As they gather a small bouquet from His heavenly kingdom.
I see but stately stems, color, sculpted petals, all savage;
The vision suddenly comes together my heart to ravage.
Eventually, these sparkling gems will close at end of day,
As I. too, take reluctant leave and go on my merry way.