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Hello dear poet friends. The pub is open!

Mish here, happy to be your host for Open Link Night.

You are free to link up ONE poem, old or new, any topic or style. If you missed joining in with a recent prompt before it closed, you have a chance to share your poem here. There is also an optional Mini-Prompt below if you are looking for inspiration.

Lately, the weather here has been quite kind to us with warmer days, blue skies and the perfect sprinkle of rain to nurture all we have planted. With my shady trees, the planting is minimal. I did tidy up my herb garden full of thyme, rosemary, parsley, oregano, chives, mint and sage. My beloved basil seems to do better in a pot. When it comes to flowers, I usually stick to impatiens, petunias and begonias. This year, I came across some beautiful African daisies or “gazanias” for one sunny spot in my yard. I bought them because of their interesting designs and colours. After bringing them home, it was intriguing to see how these sun worshipers react to darkness, quickly pulling in their little ray-like petals. I tried to capture the stages using my cell phone camera.

Here is your optional Mini-Prompt. Choose #1, #2 or #3 or a combination.

  1. Choose a line from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Daisies” to incorporate into your poem. Please mention the source.
  2. Take inspiration from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Daisies” or a line that speaks to you. Follow your muse.
  3. Use any of my photos provided above to write about something OTHER than flowers.

Daisies by Mary Oliver

It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead
oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their – if you don’t
mind my saying so – their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example – I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch –
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.

www.famouspoetsandpoems.com

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