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.