It has not been a peaceful day. We have made such a mess of things.

But no one thought to tell the rose pogonias at Camp Hardtner, so they bloomed anyway.

Robert Frost (1874-1963) wrote a poem about rose pogonias.* I’m so glad it’s in the public domain. I must share the whole thing with you.

Rose Pogonias

A saturated meadow,
     Sun-shaped and jewel-small,
A circle scarcely wider
     Than the trees around were tall;
Where winds were quite excluded,
     And the air was stifling sweet
With the breath of many flowers,—
    A temple of the heat.

These were bowed us in the burning,
     As the sun’s right worship is,
To pick where none could miss them
     A thousand orchises;
For though the grass was scattered,
    Yet every second spear
Seemed tipped with wings of color,
     That tinged the atmosphere.

We raised a simple prayer
     Before we left the spot,
That in the general mowing
     That place might be forgot;
Or if not all is favoured,
     Obtain such grace of hours,
That none should mow the grass there
     While so confused with flowers. 

Thank you, rose pogonias. Thank you, Robert Frost. I think I can sleep now.

#PeaceintheTimeofPandemic #PTOP

*Special thanks to Camp Hardtner director Daniel Chapman, who reminded me of Frost’s poem.