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This morning, when I opened my window to the world, the hibiscus greeted me in bloom — white petals glimmer in the sun.
Flowers have always been my quiet companions.
They remind me to pause, breathe, smile, and enjoy the moment.
Each month, I seek the blossoms that carry its crown, and September belongs to the aster. Its name, drawn from the Greek word for star, seems destined for this season of fading light and lengthening nights.
It has been some time since I last dedicated a poem for flowers. Though I once wrote of the white aster, today I turn for its purple cognate.
PURPLE ASTER
You’re a constellation
rooted in the earth,
with violet-petaled rays
that stretch across the fields.
You awaken when the heat withdraws,
before the frost descends.
Neither the burning flames of summer
nor the rigid cold of winter can break you;
for your wisdom blooms in fall.
The dancing leaves of autumn
pale in comparison to your beauty,
for you are the star of the garden,
royalty among the withering leaves.
Until the next snowfall,
you rest in deep slumber,
waiting for your time to shine again.
I hope my poem made you smile and inspired you to see the asters in your garden. I wish you all a wonderful month of September.
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