My husband brought me a bucket of moonbeam coreopsis

This poem is a bucket.
This poem is a moonbeam.
This poem is my husband.

A container of vague reference and history,
its origins unknown but its utility humbly significant.
Whether wooden or metallic in form, it chooses
to be the holder or keeper of all possibilities,
whether rain or mop water or tender young things safely carried.
This poem is a bucket.

Petals of pale yellow dancing in the spring breeze,
moving with the changing weather and seasons.
Sturdy and perennial, its heart moves with the tides
of earth, rain and sun. It is hardworking and dependable,
though its many faces show its charm and golden light.
This poem is a moonbeam coreopsis.

He is the bringer of gifts, deeply rooted and bound to the rich soil of our earth.
A partner in a garden of different minds,
growing in systematic wildness, each portrayed
in the best possible light or shade depending on its habits.
He is the keeper of spades and implements, ancient rituals of furrows and seed.
He is the blue eyed boy smiling with his weed filled bouquet.
This poem is my husband.

This poem is a moonbeam coreopsis brought home in a bucket by my husband.

*
*
*

*** A boomerang poem-a form created by Hannah Gosselin
whose instructions can be found on Hannah’s site, Metaphors and Smiles,
https://wordrustling.wordpress.com/
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin and Metaphors and Smiles, 2011-14

4 thoughts on “My husband brought me a bucket of moonbeam coreopsis

  1. this poem just melted my heart/what a great way to describe her husband/shared n hoped they felt the warmth n their hearts as I did

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s