No Trick of the Light
When heliotrope and bellflower,
columbine and bee balm
rainbow my gardens—their
gowns and ruffles no trick
of the light—my thoughts
go on pilgrimage to summers
at home and all the colors
that tailored my father’s lilies.
City boy and no born gardener,
his corn barely beat knee high.
But he loved lilies—resurrection
symbol—flowers he could
kneel beside.
Will my lilies, budding now by
our thick-walled stone house
bloom on his birthday again
this year—bloom with his
confidence in rainbow’s
lasting covenant?
13 thoughts on "No Trick of the Light"
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Beautiful, Nancy. Love the verbs like rainbow my gardens and tailored my father’s lilies. Such a great connection between him and the flowers.
But he loved lilies—resurrection
symbol—flowers he could
kneel beside. Absolutely love this!
great homage
to your father
Beautiful remembrance and contemplation of your father and the color and simple pleasure of gardens.
Entirely beautiful.
Gorgeous diction! And the narrative with your father’s gardening was lovely tie-in.
This is just lovely, Nancy.
Such a wonderfully rendered memory. Thanks for sharing.
Gorgeous, deeply felt tribute to your dad. Wonderful.
I love the beautiful floral imagery intertwined with the memory of your father’s garden!
Gorgeous tribute. Love the paired imagery of the colors of the lilies and the rainbow.
Lovely sounds & images, as always–& I like the way it ends with a question.
“flowers he could
kneel beside.” Such an image-filled and tender poem!
rainbow my gardens—their
gowns and ruffles no trick
of the light
O my!