How lovely the ordinary

The country roads are bordered by the hundreds in lilies—the day lily, the ordinary.
Bursting forth, spilling from every ditch, filling every wild, sunny space with orange.
I drive past them each morning, as they wake for the day.
And almost forget to see how truly lovely, the ordinary can be.





Back by the pond, the woods are dark and leafy.
In the narrowest beam of light, I see them glowing.
Four flowers, framed by the shaded bank.
And I am reminded.