Virginia Bluebells

In the garden today, amethyst, blue and purple colored pods emerged from under their leafy, covered heads. 

It was like witnessing an Orthodox monk bowed before an icon lifting his face of beaming grace and kissing the Saint. 

Lord Have Mercy, he says, as he prays day and night for all mankind. 

The chipmunks and I have watched the procession before. 

First, the green tips reveals themselves by piercing through the mulch protectively hugging the fragile jewels. They have risen from the earth before and know the bite of ice, the killing chill, that could come. 

As the days lengthen and the sphere shifts on it’s axis, the leaves will unfold for all to behold. 

I, myself, at this very moment, just knelt on my knees and kissed true royalty. 

All things are divinity. 

Day after day passes and the heads will lift higher and higher to welcome the light. 

I lifted my hands in praise to the clouds and the rain, 

and I bowed my head to thank the earth 

for all the nutrients given for this birth. 

The pods will open one by one to face our loving sun. 

We, together, the flowers and I, thanked the life sustaining ball of fire;

in a few days, the entire performance will return to the soil. 

Don’t look to see. Not even a leaf will remain. 

There’s no cause for alarm. 

They are not gone or harmed. 

They have been here all along and are only changing robes for the next manifestation that happens naturally and has for all eternity.