The gift of being late

It happens this way …

Two years ago I made my annual May pilgrimage to Crystal Springs Rhododendron Garden a week too late. I missed the height of the rhody and azalea blossoms, but met a group of third graders on a field trip. My interactions with them were as much a gift as the garden itself. The result was the prose poem above published in Postcard Poems and Prose Magazine.

Lesson: Sometimes too late is right on time.

4 Comments

  1. I embody the sad rhodies, hear the squeals of children, and see furry brown gosling heads swimming quickly behind their mother. Your writing is a step back into my childhood. Ahhhhh the memories of the Rhododendron Gardens

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