A Poem: Untainted

The Michelia Yunnanensis half open buds
are pure white against the dark,
that I can’t seem to draw the curtains.

And I can’t decide how it is
that a tree’s small blooms
can outshine the moon.

Perhaps it’s its purity,
its proliferance of bud.
A kind of defense against the night,

a protest against dusk’s tendency
to draw everything in,
blur definition.

And what is the poet’s take
on blossoms as bright as a
full moon?

Perhaps it’s simply,
like the birds singing before dawn,
heralding the light

blossoms that defy the darkness,
that stand up defined
against a twilight sky,

could be considered,
with imagination,
to imitate the Word

before the page,
man before time,
the garden before Eve,

in the promise of the possible
the full-blown flush before

Heaven distilled into a bloom.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2021

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