Edward Searl

BEGGAR'S BOUQUET

The yellowish tint of the grass
and the deeply sculptured sky,
--white on blue--
Seen through a curtained window
Haunted me with a memory of spring
I couldn't quite place.

Later, along a roadside
rank with weeds and summer trash,
I picked a beggar's bouquet
of goldenrod and asters.

The gold and purples were
burnished and rich
like the colors of a royal robe,
Yet of greater worth
because they couldn't be owned.

Time will take you through the seasons.
Time will haunt your memories
of former days you can't quite place.
And time will give you a richness of being-
greater than royal treasures, but only
for the moment.

The richness you might hold
but not own.
For only time owns
the treasure of your being
in its cycling eternity.

This title poem comes from the 1990 collection Beggar's Bouquet: A Circle of the Seasons, Royal None Such Press. La Grange. IL.