Wild Aster

A Poem

Photo by Micheile Henderson on Unsplash

Behold September’s snows —
Stalks of aster: wild, white;
Throughout the meads they grow,
Blooms where little bees alight.

To purchase pollen from the flowers,
Th’ bees compete with moths & flies —
All children of that great Endower:
Nature, from whose womb we rise.

The snowy meads, what paradise!
A wand’rer’s welcomed by all that is,
By crickets, finches, wild mice —
By all who dwell ‘mid blooms of bliss.

These fields of aster — all self-sown —
’Tis here the soul does freely roam.