T is for Thistle

This one has posted before. I have tried to avoid repeats, but it continues to intrigue me. It grew outside of Tumbleweed where Tricia and I were staying this past summer. What struck me then and what has remains with me is how much this one plant  – not there by design but simply because of its tenacity – reveals. I wrote the following last summer and repost it here.

Unbidden,
a thistle grows in the yard,
a sturdy, prickly weed.
Unasked,
its green and purple hues
reveal
a simple mystery:
life,
death,
life to be,
triangle of eternity.

16 July 2011 (date of picture)
Ghost Ranch, New Mexico (location where poem was written)