The Cactus

This picture of my rangy blooming  cactus servers as a reminder to me that things take time and all natures critters bloom at their own speed. Including you and me. 


I can't remember where the cactus came from. Maybe a gift years back.  It seems to survive long periods without much water or attention.  But it's a gangly thing growing in strange directions with some branches that seem almost broken. 

Not long ago I considered tossing it in the bin.  And then it began to sprout these odd little buds. New leaves I thought. But over time they developed a bit of orange tint. And then more color. And suddenly this seemingly hopeless and misshapen plant burst into bloom. And has stayed in bloom. 

There it stands--that blooming cactus--as a daily reminder that it's tempting to give up on things too soon--on people, on projects, on our own ability to learn something new, on the possibility of the unforeseen bearing fruit.


This poem finds its way

as life does,

searching for the soil

in crevasses,

cracks in which

flowers bloom

against all odds.


Life makes its way



petals bending with

the dew drops,


and then falling


upon the ground.


The sudden turn of

word never expected

when the pen began,

the sudden sunlight of

a smile or rain upon

the earth long after

seeds have fallen

pointlessly, all open

up new worlds

of stirring life,

of tendrils seeking

places to take hold

where once

nothing would grow.


pg 151 Steppingstones- Judy Brown