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Cactus Flower
by Ed Bennett

The cactus is impassive
sitting below my window,
every season passing
it's armed spikes,
hard waxen skin.

The spring brings rain,
or what we call this damp half inch of
aberrant atmospherics,
moistening this arid valley.

And my cactus gives thanks
for this infrequent gift
with a single bloom,
deep claret with a yellow pistil,
to a God who has not forsaken.

A large cactus flower,
an alleluia shouted to the sky
gathering a minion of pollinators
to disperse the sacred germ
across the dry dusted soil.

They say plants have no soul
yet it takes so little
to draw it's beauty from within,
to draw this steadfast gift
to please us, of little faith.


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