(Sweet Hannah, 4 years old, picking dandelions for me.)
April is almost over and I haven't honored poetry.
My all time favorite piece of poetry is this one:
Roses can say 'I love you,'
Orchids can enthrall,
But a weed bouquet in a chubby fist,
Oh my, that says it all.
I would love to credit the one who penned that but I have no idea who she is. My days as recipient of weed bouquets from chubby fists, are quickly coming to an end. My girls are growing up and are not into picking me flowers anymore. But those memories are precious to me and I'll never forget them.
I remember with clarity the guilt I felt when Hannah caught me trying to kill the dandelions in the yard. They were her yellow garden patch and she was shocked when she found me destroying them. Oh I felt badly.
Her little bouquets came with such regularity that I bought a tiny little vase to showcase her weedy expressions of love. Ironically, that vase broke last summer. I was sad to say goodbye to it as I recognized I probably wouldn't need to replace it. The little bouquets weren't arriving like they had in years past and I knew an era was ending and a new one beginning. Sigh.....
A poem I recite regularly is taken from a book of poetry Rachael and Hannah had when they were wee ones. This poem has stayed with me long since the pages of that book fell apart. This one is by Dale Evans Rogers.
Thank You God for this new day,
And for the time to work and play.
Please be with us all day long,
In every story, game, or song.
May all the happy things we do,
Make You our Father happy too.
I say this little prayer on days when I find myself dashing out the door without having prayed "properly." It's also a prayer I can say first thing in the morning when I'm still sleepy-eyed and not thinking too clearly. It has served me well for 10 years.
These are not Tennyson or Elliot or Whitman, but I appreciate their simple poignancy.
