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,"
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.
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.
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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