Wildflowers

(a Mayberrie poem)

.

The light was getting low

as she hurried past the river

but wildflowers made her stop,

their colors painting up

the sloping banks.

She picked a dozen blossoms

to spread around her pillow

and in the dusk

their petals glowed

like the setting sun

as it fired up the trees.

And so she finally slept

that night,

sending him her dreams.

 .

He camped downstream

a hundred days away

where the river roared

through deep-sculpted stone.

His men saluted, headed south

and he prepared to follow

but a flash of colors

made him pause –

wildflowers were tumbling

in the river’s froth

and as the dawning sun

was shining through the trees

a dozen blossoms splashed the banks

and landed at his feet.

 .

© 2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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