I hear you calling, “Look at me, look at me!”
Your feathery plumes of pink and white rise up in the cool shade of my garden and surround the hostas and ferns with a subtle grace.
With your independence, you adorn my garden with little care or attention.
And when the season has ended and your beauty has faded, you curl up and rest ’til the warmth of the summer sun returns.
Then you return again, and I hear you calling, “Look at me, look at me!”
I will be seeing you, my friend!
Originally posted in 2015.