Author: Lia

When Lettuce Dances

Outdoors, Poetry, Ponderings

Lettuce didn’t have to be beautiful.

It didn’t have to poke up from the earth

curled at the edges like a flamenco dancer’s skirt.

 

Did you ever wonder how something brilliant green

emerges from water, sunshine, and dirt?

 

Have you ever contemplated the volume

of detail packaged in a single, insignificant seed?

Instructions for a showy leaf in that mysterious purple-green–

curly and elegant enough for white tablecloths and bowties,

or one flat and peppery–bistro ready.

 

Did you ever wonder?

Ever contemplate a salad?

 

I walked in the garden this morning.

At noon, my fork played with lettuce,

and I gave thanks.

Truly gave thanks.

It didn’t have to be beautiful,

but it is.

 

Courage and Delight

Outdoors, Poetry

Your words are
Dew upon the fields,
Coaxing the violets to leap
Forth with joyful color—
Hue upon the fields
Where once the thorns held sway.
The violets now rise to greet the day.

Your words are moonlight to the ocean,
The warbler’s morning song,
Sunlight bending through the trees,
A river swift and strong—
Watering the desert,
Bathing crags in light,
Showering savannas,
Courage and delight.

Wind that dries my tears away.
Music in my chest—
Your words flow steady as the tide
And form a cove to rest.

Too, give me wings with which to fly,
To fly and never fall—
To rise upon the southern wind
All soft and warm and new.
Your words lead onward to the sky;
The wind, it croons a lullaby,
And beaming sunlight rules the air.
Your words are golden, faithful, fair.
I dwell on them and soar the higher.
They are fountains, they are fire
All ablaze to light the way—
In the dark, eternal day.