August and Wisdom

August Ending

I have watched the calyx morning glory now
for a month or more.
Her delicate green basket
filling first with blue, then
falling at her feet.
For weeks an empty cup, then
just this last day
of swollen summer heat
a pink hassock appears –
bulging upward
Is this a promise-
the secret-containing bosom of next year’s bloom?

I cannot know.
Years ago I might have cut it open;
Now I know insistent pursuit
only destroys, and,
in the end,
I am no wiser.

*

by Anne Elizabeth Creadick 1937-2010

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