Every week

the buds arrive

sometimes some are open.

I delight in the arrival

of the weeklies.

If they last

for more than one

then I have to congratulate

them on a job well done.

They’re cut

they’ll die

why not plant,

then watch

the years

go by?

But the weeklies

make me remember

that life reaches a pinnacle,

even if for a short time.


The mountaineer’s climb

from a dot

to a sun

blindingly warm and bright.


At the end of the week,

the weeklies go down.


Then I remember


that a just crested wave

is magnificent

in its explosion of foam

and form,

its quiet absorption

back into the earth.