every leaf a miracle

Orange lilies will forever remind me of my Mom and Dad's house; the reaching orange stars, stretching out from the shade for the sun which makes the petals peel back. Orange lilies are what I picked when I walked down the long driveway to bring in the mail; filled moments with important "he loves me, he loves me nots;" beautified lesser vases; are now what I look to as signs of summer, what I gather and pin into my hair. 
 
I couldn't find a poem I loved with lilies in it, so Uncle Walt's one about lilacs (really about the death of President Lincoln) will just have to do.
 
"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,"
                         
                           1
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
                    2
O powerful western fallen star!
O shades of night -- O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear'd -- O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless -- O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.
                    3
In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the white-wash'd palings,
Stands the lilac-bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the perfume strong I love,
With every leaf a miracle -- and from this bush in the dooryard,
With delicate-color'd blossoms and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig with its flower I break..."
 
--Walt Whitman, from " When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd," Memories of President Lincoln
 
The whole poem may be found here.
 
 
The lilies along the road.

My hat bedazzled.

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