I love this dogwood. I dug it up from the woods on a long-abandoned farm that had been sold and was about to be plowed under for development. Every year it puts on a show.
Here’s a poem I wrote about it in 2005. It has a lot to do with our interconnectedness and shared experience:
The dogwoods are blooming up and down my street.
The breaking of the cold,
The unusually warm, brilliant spring day
Has brought my neighbors out to wash cars and cut grass.
Like the returning birds
Their conversations drift and circle from yard to yard
And cross the street on capricious breezes;
We have been put away all winter
Like articles of summer clothing
Our potential at rest,
Yet now, even at night,
Pale, airy clouds of blossoms
Hover in the darkness all over the neighborhood.
poem “Dogwoods” ©2005 Bernadette E. Kazmarski
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