The poem feels like a quiet reflection on how flowers manage, with such simple grace, what we spend our whole lives trying to learn. There’s something tender in the way it shows their dependence on wind, insects, and chance—a reminder that nothing grows alone. I love how the language drifts softly, almost like pollen moving from one bloom to another. The line “new to new to new” captures that constant unfolding in such a gentle way. The image of “yellow freight” being carried across the world feels delicate and full of life. What stays with me is the idea that flowers use what they have—shape, color, presence—to draw in what they need. And in a way, we do the same, gathering ourselves through the connections that shape us. The poem holds a quiet wisdom rooted in the natural world. It’s soft, reflective, and deeply human.
I think I would've inserted the word 'pith' in there somewhere, though, my self.
And Sylvia. Sylvia Pith. A fruit who tastes, well, bittersweet, shall we say, with a dash of poison for the better measure. Or the better pleasure when the milky-white night comes down again. As it will for all of us, when the tines come...
Sweet, especially that we and the flowers need a bit of assistance.
The poem feels like a quiet reflection on how flowers manage, with such simple grace, what we spend our whole lives trying to learn. There’s something tender in the way it shows their dependence on wind, insects, and chance—a reminder that nothing grows alone. I love how the language drifts softly, almost like pollen moving from one bloom to another. The line “new to new to new” captures that constant unfolding in such a gentle way. The image of “yellow freight” being carried across the world feels delicate and full of life. What stays with me is the idea that flowers use what they have—shape, color, presence—to draw in what they need. And in a way, we do the same, gathering ourselves through the connections that shape us. The poem holds a quiet wisdom rooted in the natural world. It’s soft, reflective, and deeply human.
How sweet & delicious.
I think I would've inserted the word 'pith' in there somewhere, though, my self.
And Sylvia. Sylvia Pith. A fruit who tastes, well, bittersweet, shall we say, with a dash of poison for the better measure. Or the better pleasure when the milky-white night comes down again. As it will for all of us, when the tines come...