Poetry

Tomorrow There’s Going To Be An Explosion

Tomorrow, there’s going to be an explosion and I’m going to be there.
The planting was done long ago.
It has been waiting and I have been waiting.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion and the people will be unprepared.
They will not expect to see the colours.
The pinks, the reds, the whites ~ the sweet smells.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion and it will be brief.
The colours will fade and fall, leaving only dark remains
for months to follow.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion and I will be there to enjoy it,
with the people running about in their little worlds ~ too fast to care or to be aware.
Too fast to smile.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion and I want all to pass and see the glorious hues against the sky.
I want it to slow them down ~ make them appreciate.
Make them fall on their faces and cry.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion and there will be some who feel the impact.
Some who feel it tremble through them, waking the sleeping dreams inside.
Some will stare in awe ~ speechless at the site.

Tomorrow there’s going to be an explosion.

Some may never slow down as they pass.
They may never stop to see or even notice the passive, silent explosion of spring ~
with the crab apple tree in my yard
reaching full bloom.

~ d.wharnsby, May 1995, Kitchener, Ontario

Crab Apple Tree

Categories: Community, Garden, Poetry, Simple Living, The Artist's Workshop

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