Passing

Walking to town of a morning
bright on a lawn I pass
I saw dandelions and violets
shining from the grass.

Then on my way returning
the mower had come by;
their yellow and purple beauty
severed and strewn did lie.

Like violets we bloom in the moment
until our moment has past,
and we fall to the blades of time’s mower
like dandelions and grass.

The blossoming of the moment
is ours to enjoy while we may
then like dandelions and violets
we bow to the end of the day.

poem by Tasha Halpert

 

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