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Beauty under the foliage

Some people are just showy. They strut their stuff and it’s good. No matter what they wear, it draws attention. And whatever they do, it’s news. They are the trend-setters. All eyes are on them. And they revel in the limelight. The good gaze of an adoring and appreciative audience.

My beautiful hydrangea is one of these. Watering can in hand, I marveled as I approached the plant to give it a drink. How glorious its blooms shone in the rise of the morning sun. The lavender luster of the largest stole the show.

As I drew closer, a smaller, pinker display invited me to look. Not yet fully bloomed, this pink one had potential. The water droplets on its delicate petals winked at me. Just wait, they seemed to say, we’re gonna be gorgeous.

As I drew nearer to give the stems a drink, I noticed a burgeoning floral bundle I had nearly missed. Its bushy lavender petals were mostly hidden from view by the lush greenery. Only when I pulled them aside could I appreciate its beauty. It wasn’t hiding; it was just happy to be beautiful under the foliage. Away from the bright sun. As if it had chosen not to compete with its showier siblings.

It was in full bloom. Stunning in its beauty, yet happy, right where it was. Doing its right thing.

Oh, to be satisfied with that.

Renewal

The whole world comes alive
when the sun rises.

One by one, two by two
they emerge
from east, from west, 
from every way and every other way,
whole flocks together
as if a heavenly call
has gone out and 
they're heeding its message.

Is it the rays, the light, the glimmer
that bids them come? 
the oranges, reds, the magenta
that dazzles and displays?
or something else I can't see, 
can't hear, can't comprehend?
Is there a knowing I don't know?
A joke I'm not in on?

Ashore, I stand
mired...heavy...earthen.
the only unflighted one of morning.
Astonished at their 
soaring, gliding, joyful shouting, 
"Here I am!" 
"Coming!" 
"Wait for me!"
Guzzling the good, good news of morning.

What a glorious day has come
and is coming
when we, 
weighted and terribly terrestrial 
loosen our ties and 
shed the lashing pinning our wings.  
 
And, with the rest, come
alive in the new day.

To See a Thing

To see a thing
which mars the landscape
and NOT leap to faulting,
"Who would DO such a thing?!"

To see a thing
which mars the landscape
but NOT pick it up "to be a good citizen,"
so people can applaud and approve.

Rather, to see a thing
which mars the landscape
and pick it up in order 
... to reveal the beauty underneath.

...to right it to its former way
...to adjust it to its rightful place
...to deliver it to its intended recipient
...to mend it back to wholeness
...to blot what has been spilled 
and restore what has been lost.

A small act of restoration...
so the one who passes next
will come upon it, unhindered, and 
may feel the moment without disruption. 

To the Glory of the one who made it.
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