The Corner

Culture

Poetry

LAST BLOOMS

A vantage point for any pot

Of small, bronzed marigold

Is next to a bare, molting tree,

Where several pale green stems uphold

Odd milkweed pods that fill the spot –

They’re edible, I’m told.

As apples redden, I can see

Some purple asters, bold,

Merging with goldenrod. The lot

Springs out of tangled mold T

o sing a muted symphony,

Which swells, as fronds unfold,

 

Revealing ancient ferny fans,

Hiding the withered also-rans.

 

Sally Cook

This poem appears in the June 12 print edition of National Review.

 

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