Wildflower

by Camilla Richardson

WILDFLOWER

See me grow in desert heat and valley low;

In cracked soil my color shouts;

I invite bees to drink at my mouth.

Announced by downpours,

You’ll pass me on your morrows and in your sorrows.

I absorb the force of wind and the pounding of rain,

Then offer a fragrance softer than any day’s pain.

I am a wildflower.

I don’t envy the nursery rose.

She is tamed in gardens;

All of nature is where I grow.

She sits pretty and trellised up,

But I wouldn’t trade my freedom,

For her big blossom or timed sprinkler system.

For the Lord is my Shepherd and Sower,

To Him I get to listen.

My petals are strong.

They can take days of hot sun;

My roots travel deep, or shallow ‘round rock.

No matter my placing, my bloom still pops.

Violet in seasons or ivory with yellow cores,

I scream in cobalt, coral, or citrine,

I am the great mountains’ very pores!

There are few days of ease in this wildflower’s life.

And it’s the mingling of liberty and beauty,

Which has me at peace in all my strife.

And my seeds, oh my babies,

I spread them like my Good Sower.

Offering faithfully up to the wind,

The tiny gems carry my resilience and skill to be growers.

So enjoy us when you catch a glimpse.

Take a whiff of our fragrant perfume,

But on your way do go after,

And take along those heavy shoes.

CAMILLA RICHARDSON

Hailing from Arizona, Camilla was born with a pencil in one hand and a library card in the other. She adores both her native desert and the lush green of Germany, where she enjoyed studying. She holds her bachelor’s in Liberal Studies and is a freelance writer specializing in health, history, and lifestyle.

You can currently find her with a cup of Ceylon tea at the kitchen island, combing through archives and working away on a historical fiction novel involving the women of Southeast Asia.

Follow her on Instagram @camilla__richardson for more.