Have you ever really focused on a zinnia? They are one of the few flowers that can be grown by seed and withstand high heat. My neighbor, James Edmunds, posted the above photo of a volunteer zinnia. Volunteer means it was not planted by people. It just shows up, and usually in an odd location. I found the one below growing from a crack in a sidewalk.
Reminds me of the Leonard Cohen lyric, “There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
I’m also drawn to the flower in a flower of a zinnia’s center. There are multiple florets. These are important to the reproduction of the flower and most likely the cause of volunteers.
Please join me today in musing on zinnias and cracks and light and anything else that is on your mind. Leave a small poem in the comments. Encourage other writers with response comments. Thanks for being here.
Patience
Focus on the crack
Feel the throb of pain
Plant a tiny seedBelieve
someday… light
will reach… insomething… new
Margaret Simon, draft
will grow.
Reflections on the Teche 
Margaret, I needed this particular post this morning, and your lovely reminder in your poem. I so often do focus on the light, and do not abhor the pain, but with the grey skies today and plans to see a faraway granddaughter in disarray, I welcome the zinnia growing up and beautiful through the crack.
ON THIS DAY
with the tree outside
pockmarked from pruning
its every-which-way branches
flung away to reveal
curved arms upward
a peony pink with sunglow
and leaning from the storm
bows its head across the street
as a blessing to this day.
Love your description of the tree and all it symbolizes as a blessing to the day.
Thanks, Rose!
Not every day is the best day, but there is a blessing in every day.
So true, Margaret.
Yet still compassion flows from your tree, it keeps on giving, thanks Carol!
Thank you, Michelle!
So beautiful to know that with pruning, wonder is revealed. Thank you Carol
Wow, Carol! “pockmarked from pruning,” “every-which-way branches” revealing beauty and blessing–absolutely lovely.
Thank you, Jane!
How fun to have your zinnias pop up like that, black eyed susie’s do that here. I 💜 zinnias and grow them each year. Thanks for your prompt and light filled poem Margaret!
zinnia florets—
self-seed prayers crawl through cracks
with surprise light…
Michelle Kogan, draft
oooh – “self-seed prayers”
I agree with Rose, Michelle—the “self-seed prayers” is a wonderful description…and I love the “surprise light”, which is always there every time something grows unexpectedly through a crack. There’s always something fascinating about it!
Love self-seed prayers!
Mmm…self-seed prayers when we can’t find words. Thank you Michelle!
Michelle, this is a reminder to be open to surprises, to seek the light where I don’t expect it. Thank you.
I planted zinnias this year – first time in a long time. I admire their heartiness and desire to survive. I think it was the word “crack” that made me go a bit melancholy. I sense that in your poem, too, Margaret.
there’s a crack
in my heart
just wide enough
to let in the light
just deep enough
to take root
just strong enough
to let healing begin
This is the poem I needed to read today. Just wide enough, deep enough, strong enough…to let healing begin. Healing can be so doggone slow.
Light, root, healing – prescription for growth. Thank you Rose!
“Enough” is a key word here, and I like the strong rhythm of those lines. It’s enough to get the healing process going. Thanks, Rose.
Oh, Rose! I got the chills reading your poem…exquisite imagery that captures the essence of resilience.
Ah you’ve planted much heartfelt feeling and strength in your poem Rose, thanks!
Thank you, Margaret for the gentle reminder that patience is a primary need for seeds. I posted this on facebook, but forgot to leave a message here!
Zinnia
maybe not the most beautiful pot
sidewalk hot, cracked
just enough space
I put on a good face
without care
a little sun, maybe some rain or runoff
a butterfly by-and-by
I find a way to make your day
Patricia, you have written about one tough, but sensitive plant! This poem, like a zinnia, can make my day.
Yes, Patricia—love the insistence of the little zinnia with its “good face” eager to make it a good day for the passerby.
Love “just enough space
I put on a good face”
Margaret, your poem is one of knowing that feeling pain is part of the process, and hanging on with all you’ve got to get to the other side. May this gritty zinnia grant you patience. I like zinnias very much and am writing about mine this year:
Seeds given by a friend,
Swiped from her last year’s zinnias,
Strewn hastily in a planter,
Covered with dirt,
Watered—too much? Not enough?
Sprout!
Grow tall and then–
Stems. Only stems.
Rabbits strike again.
draft, Jane Heitman Healy
Sounds like my efforts, Jane—loved it! Picture book material?
hmmm…there’s a thought.
Love the twist at the end. Those pesky rabbits!
I really love that “someday light.” I’m always catching up on ‘This photo.’ I really love that volunteer zinnia. Thinking on it now.
[…] having a zinnia extravaganza, come on in and look around. It started with Margaret Simon’s This Photo Wants to be a Poem, post from yesterday, and the poem above. Well I have been growing […]
Hi dear Margaret! You & your Family have volunteered so much for such good, it’s time to find Beauty volunteering for you. I connect so. much because my MoM grew BIG zinnas, I grow medium flowered beauties [ TY, for explainig the surprise florets that emerge in the middle.] Also I am working on a poem to go with a photo I took of a blooming volunteer dandelion coming out of a crowded olde brick sidewalk. Zestful Zinnia days to you.
I’d love to read a draft of your dandelion poem. Thanks for coming by to see the zinnias.
Such a kindness, Margaret. I’d much appreciate your eyes & ears on it. Sending in email soon. TY.