Return

When flowers bloom,
we might not dwell upon roots,
or linger on sprouting leaf

Leaves, stems, roots,
seeds,
all return

Lifting and scattering winds,
saturating and splashing rain,
quiet beds of sun-warmed soil

In the blooming current,
petals touch, abiding,
ever flowing with a breeze,
a scent within a dream.

Post Script

This poem rests in a quiet shift of attention. It begins with what we notice most easily—the bloom—and then gently widens to include what made that bloom possible. Roots, seeds, wind, and rain are not presented as separate causes, but as part of a continuous movement that never fully begins or ends.

Rather than explaining this movement, the poem stays close to simple images. A leaf, a bed of soil, the feeling of air moving through petals. These are not symbols to decode, but moments to sit with. In that way, the poem asks less to be understood and more to be experienced.

By the end, what appears as a flower is no longer a single thing, but something carried within a larger current—touching, moving, and returning. The final image does not resolve the poem so much as it softens it, leaving a trace that lingers rather than concludes.

Image Credit

Dianthus caryophyllus in China (1) by Dinkun Chen, via Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.