Somewhere, a Blue Flax cluster blooms.
Their beauty lasts but for a day
Then die in the sun unobserved.
Someplace, an old man lies dying
Alone in the dark with no one
To comfort and pray at his side.
Oftentimes I amble in fields
Searching for this blue wildflower;
And like Meriwether Lewis
I on occasion find the plant;
When I do, I quickly bundle
A large bouquet and head for home.
This time they are for my neighbor:
A man of eighty in poor health.
“Morning neighbor, have you a vase?”