Momentary Blooms
Are there memories
senseless
to logical sentiments,
written off as never-
happenstance hypotheses
by mountain goat-bearded
wise sages —
why then
do rainbow whirlwinds
hover over peripheries
of my befuddled mind,
radiate
in the recessive
penumbra
of my tranquil heart —
thoughts of loves
long forgotten
momentarily bloom
like purple
crocus petals
on the frigid soil
of weather-beaten
March gardens —
why then
do they disappear
in April.
D. G. Vachal © 2025
Image by Couleur @Pixabay
lilies, sparrows and grass 
Thank you Dee
Makes one ponder
The Presence of the Lord…
His seasons, times, and purposes
Lived out from one to the next
In appreciation and anticipation
Heaven over earth
Thank you so much, RJ for your beautiful comment and poem highlighting the Presence of the Lord – His seasons, times and purposes in our lives. Amen, the Lord has always been present in every single moment of our lives, through the places, seasons, and events. Great is His faithfulness. Blessings to you, my friend.
Hi Dee, I’m so impressed with your poems. You have so many ideas and I don’t always understand them but I love that you keep on writing. Big hugs! Love, Sarah
Thank you so much, Sarah, for your encouragement. Love, Dee
Lots of deep meanings—- love it 🌸
Thank you so much, Susan! Blessings!
Another beauty… loved “mountain goat-bearded
wise sages”… almost comical. And then the last two stanzas spoke to me especially. I think, like Elliot, that “April is the cruelest month”… not quite sure you were saying the memories in April were painful. But sounded like a private sorrow. And love also “the frigid soil
of weather-beaten
March gardens”. Just a perfect image.
Oh Ellen, thank you for going over the ingredients of this poem, deciphering, measuring, and concocting what is to be intricately baked. You have come up with the recipe of what I have suggested. Yes, you caught the painful memories in April, the private sorrow, the frigid soil of March gardens, and even the dash of comical spice of the mountain goat-bearded wise sages. Thank you, thank you for your priceless interpretation of these words!
Oh, you are very welcome, Dee. The private sorrow of memories of old loves… very poignant.
Yes indeed, Ellen. 🩷
🩵
Your poem is thoughtfully written and meaningful. I like it.
Thank you so much, Mary for your lovely comment on this poem.