Spared of Consequences

Glorious bleeding heart, oh did you freeze?
Your abundant blossoms emerged so rapidly.
Astounding my wondering waiting eyes,
blown away to see them bloom so plentifully.

Not only numerous, but intricate,
each blossom a perfectly shaped heart,
red with white contrast, symmetry ultimate,
though common place, what beauty you impart.

Now I awake before the dawn reveals,
what night has left, untended, in its wake,
remorse for thoughtlessness my blood congeals;
forecast below freezing; with guilt , I quake.

Just three weeks or so ago, unfolding leaves,
jutted above the sodden soil in flower bed.
Now knee high with blooms the eye perceives,
and my waking thought is, "Don't be dead."

The covers, cuddly, above my head I pull,
to face the day, and see what has occurred,
I pick up my bed side phone and, dial tone dull,
puts answer to my mute fears into words.

The blackened, wilted flowers I envision,
the leaves all drooping, killed by late spring, cold,
may have through a Higher One's kind decision,
left me with living beauty to behold.

Now, don't you know my thoughts were pleas to Heaven,
for my sleep-over-
action's ineptitude,
the phone said,"the low was thirty-seven."
I now enjoy the bleeding hearts with gratitude.