High on Hurricane Ridge
where the windswept slopes are bare,
summer alpine meadows bloom
with wildflowers everywhere.
Purple lupines are my favorites,
though I like the others too …
the white & yellow “lilies” ?
How I wish their names I knew.
They’re so unlike the roses
I see from my front porch swing:
cultivated hybrids
with little tags and everything.
With blooms in gorgeous yellow,
and yellow with orange hues.
It seems there is a tea rose,
and a fluffy pink one too.
Despite my lack of knowledge
they have bloomed all summer long.
And judging by the buds
it looks like they’ll keep blooming on.
Down the road at a fancy nursery
a Dahlia Festival is going on –
showcasing showy blooms
and bringing quite a throng.
Oh, I do love dahlias!
They have such personality flair!
It’s no wonder they draw crowds
from just about everywhere.
I see so many ladies
who are the dahlia type –
so full of personality;
so bubbly and so bright.
Who always seem to know
the perfect things to do and say.
Who always seem successful
at whatever comes their way.
They have an endless store of energy.
They’re always on the go.
They do amazing things.
Next to them I feel so low!
Then there are the roses,
so dignified and all,
looking down their noses
as they stand so straight and tall.
Sure, their blooms are pretty.
But wow! … what thorns!
Instead of adding grace,
they convey an air of scorn.
Everything concerning life
must fit within their status quo.
It seems I never measure up …
next to them I feel so low!
It seems I’m just a wildflower
on a windswept slope so bare.
Small and insignificant.
No one would even know I’m there.
Growing in the shadows
cause my strength is somewhat frail.
Unable to accomplish
the great things others can do so well.
Wishing there was something big
that I could accomplish too.
But alas, I’m just a tiny wildflower
hidden out of view.
Why would God make mountains
with windswept slopes so bare,
and cover them in flowers
if no one would even see them there??
All throughout the Olympics,
and throughout the Cascades too
are countless alpine meadows
covered in flowers “out of view.”
Far away from the cities.
Far away from any eyes.
Scores and scores of small wildflowers –
God’s praise, His joy, His prize.
Maybe, just quite maybe,
these scores of flowers all unseen
are many more in number
than cultivated roses so pristine.
Maybe, just quite maybe,
these flowers in the mountain air
are many more in number
than cultivated dahlias in their flair.
Maybe, just quite maybe,
God loves praise through the unseen.
And in my hidden place
I can bring Him joy through my little things.
I don’t have to be a dahlia
like I often feel I should.
I don’t have to be a rose
with perfect blooms and thorny wood.
I can be a small wildflower,
cause God made me that way.
I can bring Him joy & praise
even though I’m tucked away.
Scores and scores of “small wildflowers”
God has placed where they belong.
Each one tempted to believe
that with her there’s something wrong.
But God’s scores of “small wildflowers”
outnumber all the rest.
Proving that in the unseen
He is often praised the best!
By: Amy Hayes
2014
