By June our brook's run out of song and speed.
Sought for much after that, it will be found
Either to have gone groping underground
(And taken with it all the Hyla breed
That shouted in the mist a month ago,
Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow)--
Or flourished and come up in jewel-weed,
Weak foliage that is blown upon and bent
Even against the way its waters went.
Its bed is left a faded paper sheet
Of dead leaves stuck together by the heat--
A brook to none but who remember long.
This as it will be seen is other far
Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song.
We love the things we love for what they are.
Orange Jewelweed. Impatiens capensis. Touch-me-not family. Also known as spotted touch-me-not, snapweed, silver leaf, and lady's eardrops.
Its fragile orange (sometimes gold or yellow) blossoms remind me of tiny snapdragons. It’s the juice in the thick icy-green stems, however, that you rub on your skin, should you have stumbled into poison ivy’s ‘leaflets three’ or nettles’ inescapable prickles. - Betty Lies
And by Betty Lies from http://www.packetinsider.com/blog/nature/?p=113
We call it touch-me-not, this wildness
tense as a spring: Hands off,
it seems to say, but I know
something wound up
in the heart’s green coils
is crying Touch me. Touch me.
Touch me now. All fall
I have been drawn and drawn again
to one tall stand of jewelweed,
to touch the pendant seedpods,
feel them burst with life.
I understand it’s not just botany
that gives me such delight
running my fingers over their plumpness,
warming them till they explode
and scatter seed.
I have seen hummingbirds
bury their beaks in jeweled cups,
the bees delving so deep
you only know they’re inside
by the flower’s orange tremblings.
This autumn, when my body
keeps its secrets from me,
hiding something deep within,
it pleases me to feel
the life stored in those pods,
waiting for release, first now,
and then again to rise,
to rise after a slow cold winter.
- Betty Lies