On a Sunday night, many many years ago
we went a long way
to a flower-reading meeting.
You were working in the garden,
so chose to bring a dandelion,
clock-full of seeds.
After driving and arriving in the city,
you took a crumpled folded sparsely seeded
fragile specimen from your Levi jacket pocket.
I cheerfully suggested
you pluck a fresh flower from the street garden,
but you were content to keep yours.
When it was wrapped anonymously,
and later, a spiritual lady held it in her hand,
I quietly said,
Shall I write your message verbatim,
but, you said No.
You sat quietly in the hall
and listened to many readings,
but, you said nothing.
On our drive home through the hills, I said,
Did you understand your stem message.
The answer came in one word
when, you said Yes.
I recall, it was all delivered calmly
in metaphorical language,
presenting some words around possibilities,
perhaps, past challenges in your life
and also I thought, some coming promise.
But it seems you may be climbing ladders,
reaching out, to uplift others passing by.
The truth is, 9 days later,
while walking along,
with your arms full of library textbooks,
you died suddenly, on a city footpath.
I lost you.
And I lost my wellness and some life force.
But in deepest grief, I was always lifted higher.
Time passes.
I grow abundant yellow dandelions.
Colorful Rosella parrots eat the flowers.
I eat the bitter and tender salad leaves.
Yet still, a Spirit Breeze
spreads these Seeds of Light.
