The Lure of the Larkspur

In the garden park are lanky larkspur ladders,
each blossom blue climbs closer to the sky;
their lavish wall of color's all that matters
as lustrous purple petals lure the eye.

For blooms to excel along a sheltered border,
in fall deploy the seeds in soil rich;
though care is mild, growing with wild disorder,
they sprout in drought or rain without a hitch.

Medieval years placed Mary's tears, the larkspur,
in Mary's special gardens fresh for prayer;
no mind the way our summer may grow darker,
the larkspur cheers with Mary's tears of care.

There are your larkspurs shaped like star-girt candles,
with willowy light white centers bright-displayed
amidst the blue blooms--poison to some animals,
deceptive beauty by its brew betrayed.

These candle larkspurs mark an arc through Europe,
from France they prance their green romance to Greece;
their blossoms star-like front with farside spur up
combine to form a flower of warm caprice.

The family's cachet: Ranunculaceous flowers--
The Crowfoot or the Buttercup for the same;
Delphinium--the genus sum for bowers
of Dwarf or Tall, Spring, Garden--all by name.

From two to six feet tall on sticks they tower,
an avalanche of buds on branching sprays,
perrenials and annuals that shower
pink, violet, red and white to spread our gaze.

O larkspur, you're a loftier lure to beauty
than just the length your stalk's spare strength can rise;
her tears may fall, yet Mary's call to duty,
like pointed stem, a diadem to the skies.

The blooms of small but vigorous sprawling larkspurs,
like blossoming souls that climb to goals on high,
burst forth with fire like an angel choir of larks lures
God's graces as they cross the azure sky.

                              -- by Pete Voelz              2002