SPRING…So it is, even without the green and bloom we’re all eager for. The pattern of the seasons says so. The day light settles between the Winter and Summer Solstice. Persephone will walk the land giving of her verdant gifts. Blooms Are on the way…
Spring Daisy Jones
She wore her name well, held to the day of her birth
when the pattern of the season gives it’s light just right
and the good bye to the cold and chill makes it’s stand.
The only child from the womb of Violet Jones, who was
long passed the age of birthing when love found her ready.
A red hair child born on the first day of Spring 63 years ago.
Hard to know if her Momma’s flourish for dressing her
All in soft greens, with hand made flowers pinned to her
dresses stuck to her for a life time, or being a child of the
60’s, when hippydom held her to the cause of Peace and Love,
Forever a Flower child with a treasure chest full of hand made
flower pins, and fragile wreaths made from garden blooms for her hair.
Her coffin is wide open. She lays on a bed of moss green velvet.
With that treasure chest of faded flowers filling the spaces around her
I pass, looking down at her alabaster face still holding kindness
And years of good living ready to rest into the body of the Earth.
A wreath of fresh flowers crowns her faded red curls.
Her folded hands hold a peace sign and a heart.
John Lennon’s music plays in the background and I cry.
Spring was every season of her life, ever a give of her blossoms
A living bouquet of a life ever in bloom and greening.
She came home to die, to be with her family, her old friends.
To wrap her memories around us, to pin us with her flowers,
Hug us with her Love. To remind us to always give Peace a chance.