“Blue and dark-blue
rose and deepest rose
white and pink they
are everywhere in the diligent
cornfield rising and swaying
in their reliable
finery in the little
fling of their bodies their
gear and tackle
all caught up in the cornstalks.
The reaper’s story is the story
of endless work of
work careful and heavy but the
reaper cannot
separate them out there they
are in the story of his life
bright random useless
year after year
taken with the serious tons
weeds without value
humorous beautiful weeds.”
~Mary Oliver
Rushing out the door in the early morning this past week, I was stopped in my tracks by the morning glories blooming on our garden fence. Their brilliant colors shining in the summer sun brought me to my senses, causing me to cease my frenetic movement, forcing me to recognize what is important. Deep blue petals. Stripes of ruby red creating an amazing star. Enough white to create the perfect contrast. As if an artist had planned it, which of course, an Artist did. These flowers which give praise to the beginning of a day were speaking their flowing,flower language to a human moving at the speed of light.Thankfully their shout out to me did cause me to stop, to look at the intricate yet simple design that reminded me of fireworks. Since I had had the good sense to stop and look, I also went back into the house and came out with my camera. Taking a few snapshots of the beauty of this simple flower, the light of the morning, will bring a certain hope in the winter that is to come. I will look forward to the rich colors of these images when all about me is white.
The poem by Mary Oliver speaks of morning glories as interlopers in a cornfield, weeds that become a part of the farmer’s story. Our morning glories were planted in one place but have now made their way to two other places throughout the garden. They have twisted and turned and climbed up the fence and for the last few weeks have been sending their gifts out into the day. These precious petals have become a part of our summer story, the backdrop in which we have lived our lives in all its fullness. As I gazed in ernest at them this past week, I felt a small tinge of jealousy. How I would like to be able to make visible such beauty as an homage to every morning!
But then I began to think about how the morning glory’s gifts and mine differ. In the final analysis, I am responsible for only the gifts I have been given. I can’t, after all, do the work of a morning glory. My work is to greet the day in my own authentically human way. With gratitude and hope. With deep breaths and prayer. With kindness and gentleness to all I meet, knowing that we are all, human and plant, all creatures, intertwined in this Great Work of Creation.
And mostly with awe. Awe when presented with the intricacies of the morning glory. Awe in the presence of the Mystery which created us both.
