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.

---

Insight

This poem rests in a quiet shift of attention. It begins with what we notice most easily—the bloom—and gently widens to include what made that bloom possible. Roots, seeds, wind, and rain belong to a continuous movement that never fully begins or ends.

Rather than explain this movement, the poem stays with simple images: a leaf, a bed of soil, air moving through petals. They are not symbols to decode, but moments to sit with. The poem asks less to be understood than experienced.

By the end, the flower is no longer a single thing, but something carried within a larger current—touching, moving, returning. The final image does not resolve the poem. It softens into scent, leaving a trace that lingers rather than concludes.

Nirvana’s In Bloom, written by Kurt Cobain, might be considered as a juxtaposition. Its bloom may suggest something tender becoming visible—and therefore open to admiration, misunderstanding, or harm. What happens when these two blooms are held beside one another: one carried within a continuous current, the other exposed through being seen and sung? The comparison need not be resolved. It may simply open another way of noticing what it means to bloom.

Image Credit

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