Spring after spring
they grow
from the once slumbering seeds,
Beautiful, untamed
and rise to greet the summer sun.
Opening their faces,
painting the tree lines,
hillsides and valleys
With an array of colors
no artists palette could truly match.
They bear the fruit of their pollen
and welcome their winged and buzzing friends with open arms.
Rooted they stand
in the knowing
of their own unique beauty,
each blossom different from the rest.
Lupine does not wish to be a sunflower,
Nor does the daisy long to be a rose.
The wildflowers let themselves be
Just as they are.
Why, then, do I wish to be anything
other than myself?
Poem by Felicia White
After a major loss in my family, I found writing as a way to heal, as well as discover parts of me that became buried in the rubble of life. I took to Mother Nature after becoming a mother myself. I love to write and share my experiences in nature, as well as compare it to our lives as humans, exposing how similar the human experience and natural world really are.
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