Crape Myrtle

I tried to take a picture,
But I couldn’t catch the light.
And no matter how I aimed the lens,
The photo wouldn’t come out right.

The picture didn’t see the detail,
That made me pause and think,
And smile at how the petals
looked like chiffon-
Delicate and pink.

The honey light slicing through the leaves,
Leaving a wink of gold;
A perfect balance of apricot and blush,
Effervescent, fleeting, bold.

You would have seen it,
if you were there,
But I saw it all alone,
I wanted to capture the essence for you,
So I could bring it home.

I’d show you how the gentle breeze,
Was bending in the tree,
How the summer storm,
Which just had passed,
Kept the air thick around me.

We’d marvel at the smell of earth,
The miracle of dew,
The tiny ants that run up and down,
the bark as brown as shoes.

We’d hear the bird sing in the bough,
The branches sway and dance,
I’d point out the shiver of the flower,
If I’d only had the chance.

It was but a moment in the light,
In a place I’ve know for years,
I’ve seen that tree grow tall and wide,
With the changing season’s gears.

But my camera was not enough to click,
And give you all that came,
With the suspended moment of this summer,
Which I have yet to name.

2 thoughts on “Crape Myrtle

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