Free Falling Flower
The beginning is a tight- wound bud of choice,
closed up around one tiny thoughtful seed
smooth and reckless in unknown potential
an egg of some rare and unnamed species.
Anything might hatch, anything might see the light.
Then the orchestration plays its song,
starving winds, a piper’s plaintive flute and bells
suspended bloom the breeze now coaxes patiently
and dancing petals bend and beg to open.
No one can stop revealing this unraveling.
The stem revolving slowly poised and changing,
just a dot upon the afterthoughts of dreaming air
whose breezes tease, exert control and mold
those petals pushing, straining out to open,
this flower stretched and groomed, designed to fall.
Ah, the leap of faith for blossom bravely plunges,
the world below is like a mouse unto its’ hawk and dive.
and every part unwinds to rushing gravity divine
falling with no net or guide, just falling
perfuming sky, while cloud banks raise their flags.
Grace is not essential for a flowering offering,
careening down abandoning both balance and restraint,
hidden petals whistling, twisting round on opening
It’s the plummet of the trusting bloom surrendering,
To forces pulling, unbinding cloistered beauty in descent.
Freedom’s sigh escapes from lips of clinging leaves,
all is open wide as in slow motion now it floats.
Who would be the one to pity this free falling choice of beauty?
Every twirl on every current, brings it closer to its marker
Every second in decline, sweet perfume paints the countryside.
And just before it makes a perfect upright landing,
it somehow knows that this is where it was to be.
The seed it carries finds its way to nurtured earth and mud
What will it grow is not decided by the trusting carrier
Whose pleasure was to only serve the need, free falling was its destiny.
June 18, 2011
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