once in october
i stopped to look
at ripening corn,
saw the last of
the chicory,
growing on the
edge of the field.
faded beauty,
beyond summer,
a reminder of
summer chicory,
maybe a weed,
maybe a flavour
enhancer,
definitely
beautiful flowers
on ragged stems.
weed or flower?
(a question: how
can i be classified?)
October Chicory
Published
Murray Robertson (photography & poems) 
I find this poem rather profound, in a personal sort of way, because it incorporates – how could you every know? – several themes that are fundamental to my life. Biology, crops, weeds, nature, beauty, classification systems… and the fact that you ascribe it to October, often my “darkest” month… Thank you Murray for this beautifully fletched arrow, hitting the target again. I look forward to linking to this on my blog in 2021. Meanwhile I send you and all your followers a heart-hug and courage as we stride, sing, or shuffle into 2021 â¤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you very much for the kindnesses writingpresence!
All our best wishes for now and the future.
đ
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful poetry and photography â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
LikeLike
Thank you again for the kind words d.a.!
đ
LikeLike
It is a pleasure always
LikeLike
I remember as a child, my cousins laughing at me because I brought a chicory bouquet to my great grandmother. They said it was a weed. I just thought it was beautiful…the same blue as the summer sky! Nice post, Murray. Happy New year!
LikeLike
Thank you Cheryl!
(For the kindness and the anecdote.) I’d say you were right all along and your cousins were mistaken. I am guessing that they were older and had forgotten how ro truly see.
đ
LikeLike