I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that when we witness an amazing and spontaneous occurrence in nature, there is some kind of meaning or message in it for us. The poem I am sharing today describes one of those moments. It happened a few years ago on a foggy summer morning. I was sitting in the sunroom on my purple yoga mat, staring out at our backyard and doing a little stretch before work. Then I lay flat on my back for just a few moments, closed my eyes and took in some deep breaths before sitting up again. Within the seconds that my eyes were closed, something had happened outside. Right there, standing on the nearby rocks at the edge of our tiny pond, was something staring in at me – a heron. I didn’t move. She didn’t move. And she didn’t stay for long. Two minutes—maybe? Later that day, I went out back to skim that little pond. Right there, in the tangle of lily pads, was one water lily in full bloom – the only one that ever bloomed during the short time that we lived in that house. The heron visitor seemed to have just sprung to life out of the petals and fog. I’d never had a heron visit my backyard before that day, and I haven’t had one visit since.
pink water lily
she might say
but in a
she is gone
—by Sheri Doyle, all rights reserved
|The one and only water lily that bloomed in our pond that summer.|
Robyn Hood Black is hosting the Poetry Friday roundup here.