The petals are sodden,
edges frayed—stigma
shriveled like melted wax,
stems falling in heaps—
blurring my memory of
June flowers.
Long drafts of rain and
overcast skies have shrunk
the joys of aerating, mulching
and appreciating my garden
and brought us back to
overcoat weather.
In these last decades of life,
dark evil thoughts fill my
brain at the loss of each
summer day that should
have been—each sunlit hour
that never came.
A busy little sparrow is neatening
up my yard again, nit-picking
tiny fits of fluff, housekeeping
miniscule debris from my
just-hatched garden.
This immigrant offspring, common
as crumbs on a sidewalk table,
makes herself at home in city
blocks and parking lots and in
my pocket garden.
Favored by God’s eye, discerned
in song and story, in thrall to
biology; she goes about
her preparations
for coming generations.
I stand en pointe waiting for the
comic sight of scrawny pledges with
open beaks and newborn notions.
As a keeper of plants, I have vested interest
in the propagation of species.
I’d like to freeze-frame
snap, click,
the perfect moments
of nature—when the
neon-yellow tulips are at
their smartest bent, when
the scarlet-red cardinal with
orange beak lands on the black
wire of the seed-holder, when
the blushing robin scrumps
up a wiggling worm—but nature
is never still.
It keeps
on moving and changing. Past
perfection—past lime lacy leaves,
pearlized blossoms and
rich red roses—past
deterioration
right on to
degradation. There is no
stop button. No way of
holding back the eventual
disintegration that always
follows life’s finest
hours.
The spirit of God extends around our entire earth, not just in our own neighborhood. Following the tragic earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the media showed scenes of Japanese people with hands folded together and heads bowed that seemed not unlike our own supplications. Our hearts extend towards theirs in mutual grief. A service of prayer and readings was held at Linden Ponds following the disaster and in our western way, we were able to join in spirit with this eastern country. Funds were collected for Doctors Without Borders in Japan. We live on an unstable planet and we see the results of this all too often. But out of disaster, comes miracles and we rejoice at the sight of a tiny baby rescued from rubble and families reunited. It was especially moving to see a Japanese flag displayed along with our own and to remember that Japan was a bitter enemy of ours when we were younger. That hatred can change to acceptance and understanding is testament that forces for good exist side by side with our darker elements.
What a sweet-smelling Valentine’s Day gift – and a forecast of warmer days ahead. The Stargazer is a hybrid of the Asiatic and the Oriental lily. Someone has evidently been working on reducing its past pungent odor to a more pleasant floral scent. This variety, meant to be a metaphor for innocence and purity, is white with a flush of pink and somehow reminds me of white linen. The rather longish buds are a delicate pink. As they open, each petal (there are six) appears almost pure white, developing tinges of pink as it matures. The petals show off with ridges of lime green down the center. The six filaments are also lime green and have bronze anthers. It is truly amazing to watch this flower change shape and color each day, finally fading to a soft white. Stargazer Lilies are named for their habit of facing the sky as they open.
The temperature dropped to minus six today—the freezing point of salt water. I’d drive out to the ocean to check but my car is frozen under several inches of snow. One radio commentator noted that the snow was “popping.” I guess she meant it was making popping noises. Maybe the noises were due to shrinkage as the temperature dropped or maybe they were caused by the snow settling under its own weight. Other weather phrases I heard recently were: “the snow should end after midnight” and “snow should continue until 7 p.m.” I’m confused by the word should – I don’t think that snow is able to decide what it should or should not do – I think that decision comes with a higher pay grade. A radio caller stated that he takes an early morning walk every day (even at minus 6) by simply adding more layers of clothing and that today he was especially moved by the still clear air and the sight of the Gibbous Moon. I must admit I did not see the Gibbous Moon this morning but the caller’s description is certainly tempting. If the temperature makes it back into the 20’s again and it is safe underfoot, I will take the risk and see what nature has to offer. Please note that all temperatures are in Fahrenheit. Although the rest of the world uses Celsius, it is apparently too difficult for us to learn new things.
If I could see your face
I would hold onto it
In my memory
Forever.
You formed me before
I had awareness.
Before I knew it was you
Who held me.
You sent me out beyond
My ability to remember
And asked me
To seek you.
Love pierced the barrier
Between then and now.
But love did not come
With seeing.
So I grasp darkly
For a picture
That will enable me
To know you.
And I listen
For your words
Sent through time
To call me.
