The Perfect Season
Last night the temperature fell
and cool air drifted through your bedroom
after a day of heat and sun.
You slept well despite a full moon
and the madness of loss
and broken hearts, aware
that every waft of air is precious,
savoring the birdsong morning
and the smell of phlox.
It is the perfect season,
where nothing is right yet
somehow beauty erupts in ever corner
eager to ease your darkness.
gently, like a lovers caress in the night,
soft and true.
About this poem
There is beauty everywhere, whether we choose to see it, or not.
The picture was taken in my front yard. I have a weakness for batchelor’s buttons. I cut around them with my lawnmower when a mow the lawn. It may make the lawn a little spikey looking, it it’s a good tradeoff for the color.
Tom
Quarry House 
Sometimes I think we were separated at birth….batchelor buttons are my favorite wildflowers too…also love firepinks. The home I used to have in Georgia had a very long driveway with woods on each side and the birds brought me new wildflowers almost every year…..I remember one year asking God to have His birds bring me firepinks…..and they did! …..believe it or not.