Indian Paintbrush

Indian Paintbrush

Spring is in full swing, here. The trees are all filled with new, bright-green leaves, and the Indian Paintbrush and Blue-eyed grass are blooming, as well! When our oldest kids were very little, we used to pick the clumps of Blue-eyed grass to put in a small vase for their Daddy, and we called them "Daddy's Flowers," since his birthday is in April, when they come out in force.

Wildflower
a poem (among others on the site) with a natural theme


On the grassy hills grows a wildflower
Breathing in the sun like heavy air
Free to dance with the wind every hour
And the bees and neighbors without care

She came from the sky, as all wildflowers
Falling into a comforable place
Devouring the succulent season's powers
Proud perennials pale in light of her delicate face

Sweet is the rose, but shows her teeth
A rose, prisoner of her own lovely thrill
Groomed and prepared to perform a loving feat
While wildflower dreams of ecstasy on next year's hill

Wildflower captured a heart on Spring
But the season's change carried her away
The wind blew, she set free, it seemed the natural thing
Yet she dreams of deeper roots, some day, giving her cause to stay

-- S. Shelton