Our joy is never quite so close
As when the flowers bloom.
The sight, the colors in the field
Make even cold hearts glad.
The fragrance bids a memory
To open long-shut doors;
It calls forth laughter, dance, and song
And weaves the days anew.
Yet we can only briefly know
The joy of fragrant flower.
It lingers softly in the air
Then turns in darkened flight.
Seek now the vendor on the street
Bowed down by beauty’s care,
And he can sell you fresh-cut joy
To bring into your home.
He offers busy city folk
Such beauty nature brings.
His hope is but for sustenance
To fill his meager days.
Perhaps a flower will remain
When workday is complete.
Will it suffice to bring him joy?
Or give his lady peace?
Image: The Flower Carrier (1935) San Francisco Museum of Modern Art
Artist: Diego Rivera (1886-1957)
Medium: Oil and tempera on masonite