In memory of Kristin Leigh Highfill
December 23, 1978 -- September 17, 2005
Hummingbirds twirl and flash around
Glistening flowers awake in their beds,
Catching the morning’s first light.
Who knows the taste of freshest dew
Rolling along their tongues?
Well-tuned bands of bees busily buzz,
Bumbling in blossoms newly born,
In praise of their conquering queen.
Who knows what treasures they find
Deep down where pollen hides?
A group of children gather to play,
Sometimes friends and sometimes foes--
But always children at play.
Who knows what secrets they spell out
In letter-blocks and finger-paint?
An old friend crosses the street
In the calmest hours of night
But does not reach the other side.
Who knows what she encounters
Or where her journey ends?
Spring, summer, autumn, winter pass,
Leading every thing to come and go.
Who knows what gifts are waiting
In nature’s gossamer shawl
If we would but hold out our hands?
Who can solve the mystery
Or analyze the miracle
Of the sunshine cupped in my hand?
Of the seed that has dropped from my hand?
Of the life that has slipped through our hands?
Image credit: EdyaT, from Wikimedia Commons, under a Creative Commons License.
"And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
ReplyDeleteThat I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love."
Ah, Keats...
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