One evening in the last week of August my wife and I happened upon a Delaware flower farm. The following open reflect my thoughts that day.
Flower Farm
A flower farm in August bloom,
Go see for fall is coming soon
Colorful flowers seem to flirt
Vibrant Asters lined up alert
Sunflower’s yellow all aglow
With blackened centers are just so
Flower farms don't feed the world,
As more people are unfurled,
No corn or beans to fill your hat,
Or sugar beets to make you fat
So why plant flowers where crops could grow?
And harvest three rounds of hay before snow
Before Sunday comics and acrobats physically able,
And of course color TV and multichannel cable
Wild flowers in meadows grew,
People must have liked them too
Farming provided means to stay well fed,
Somehow growing flowers entered a farmer’s head.
Not to eat, bake or stew in a pot ,
Only to experience fragrance and forget-me-nots
Unlike golden sunsets and mountains azure,
People Farming flowers had to be sure
Ephemeral beauty would find a way,
Into homes, hearts, and holidays
Not gathered from the wild,
Purchased from a stand or grocery aisle
Finally an intrepid farmer agreed,
Flowers planted instead of snap peas
Now we see flowers at special events,
Celebrations, parties and a wedding in a tent
Back to the late afternoon finding the flowers,
Tranquility, beauty, in the day’s waining hours
After dinner stroll late that summer day,
Still light and warm breeze off the bay.
First a gentle scent of something sweet,
Flowers and flowers in rows so neat.
A moment to pause, cherish, and share with someone
Like an early morning coffee and fresh cinnamon bun
So is the last of late summer eves,
Soon ending with fallen leaves.
Michael Morris, M.D.
Ocean View
Sent from my iPad