Small, Small Stars

small, small stars

snow over the fence

and cry their smell of spring

heavy with the dew of morning

not knowing the joy they bring

in the glow of the morning

deep and white they lay

turning their faces to follow the sun

and wait out the heat of the day

Oh, cover me in the sweetness of spring

and the hope of where flowers lie

I will carry their memory

when winter forces them to die.

~ CaseyJuly

I wrote this poem in my 20's when I was touring across Europe with a choir. We passed places where the flowers and gardens were the most beautiful I had ever seen. I was overwhelmed by the fields of flowers in Holland and the flower market there was massive.

But the private gardens that were ages old reminded me of my own Mother's gardens. She spent hours planting beautiful things that seem to explode in the spring.

Now, in my 40's the hated Bradford Pear trees here in the Ozarks fit this poem well. If you are interested in gardening and plants look up this invasive species of trees that are taking over the Ozarks.

It reads like a sci-fi horror story!