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by Elizabeth Wickland
Tell No One
Tell no one of the wonders of the Mallard duck's green head, how it glistens in the sun against the gentle red of the Willow branches budding in the golden spring sun, as they paddle through the waters where the creek has come undone. Tell no one of the beauty of the butterflies that flit through the flowers not yet budding on the little sandy spit, how their wings will keep them searching for the hope that blooms in Spring as they hover over what will be a very lovely thing. Tell no one of the glory or the warmth of young spring's sun, of the joy that comes from watching the smallest creatures run, of the life that is teeming in the wake of newborn day, of the power that hope holds over all we do and say. Tell no one of the miracle that is this daily life, that cuts you to the quick as if with sharpest knife. Tell no one what you notice, into which your wonder delves. Tell no one of these things -- let them know it for themselves.
Elizabeth delights in the sacramental nature of this world and everything in it. She writes about nature, the quotidian, words, poetry, and the rhythms of life.
Photo by Anders Jildén on Unsplash
So beautiful! Congratulations on being featured! ❤️
This is an incredibly beautiful poem, a painting in verse. Your alliteration with "butterflies that flit
through the flowers" was so perfect and unforced, and it made me want to read on and pay even closer attention to the word pictures. Thank you for an invitation and an exhortation to *see* for ourselves.