PATTI AT TAHOMA Who once a person, hiking in an August alpine meadow, And solely upon their own good fortune a viewer, Might have spied Patti searching for a meaningful thing, Finding once again good fortune from a mystery of life. Among the wildflowers she was surely there. Knee bent on ground to get the better essence Of mountain daisy, tansy, and phlox, Bringing adornment to that meadow field of flowers Perhaps to seek firsthand the source of floral beauty. Was it something deep within the flowers? Under the outer shapes and colors, before the heady scents Or only the outer surfaces alone that lured the meadow bees. A lofted eagle rejoiced in its claim from above and governing Meadow grounds, found satisfaction with her presence in its domain. Sensing she wasn't there to pick and take away a flowery treasure, but to listen, see And savor a dewy scent carried by a warm, morning breeze. A flower's time is brief in alpine meadows yet long enough for love to find. After sun sweeps back the winter snows and warms a place for waking flowers. There's time enough for all things needed there. (as in other worlds). In brief moments, mountain flowers spoke to Patti the hope of soul mates found. And for that reason, Patti found a world, a time, and soul mate of her own Living now as now she does, on a Colorado mountainside. Watching the flowers and growing in the same light that brought The life and beauty to meadow flowers, both inward and outward Dryden01 2005.
THE WEALTH OF SUMMER TREES The early morning sun Lit a Summer canopy Of lush green leaves For August heat in a Jersey valley. All weekend long in quietude The shade of trees preserved A Summer cabin family From the humid Jersey fate. The sun swept ground dew From a nearby open field With a stirring of air That gently rattled wildflowers. Shifting and dancing To the company of bees Floral scents and vibrant hues Caught a child's eyes for treasure. The shade of maple, elm and chestnut Bought coolness and a valley peace From swelter born of the hot moist Breaths of a bright August day. The trees there owned a valley. The valley owned a Summer cabin family And the family's children owned their dreams For as long as any could keep the other. Of those that fret for wealth I'd ask What can be the greater worth of things Beyond a cool hammock nap To Sunday afternoon's child? Dryden01 2004