Dance of the Lilies

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In the rock garden, orange day lilies
rest their heads on pillows of clover,
gazing up at the torn cotton
that creeps across the sky.  

Yesterday they stood with their colors
wrapped tight against the stinging rain;
then, straining toward the first slant
of yellow morning light, they opened.  

Now they rest, reclining like prima
ballerinas across the garden floor,
stretched out in their morning drama,
exhausted from the bloom.

171 thoughts on “Dance of the Lilies”

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