Ode to a Daylily

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Father’s Day, age sixteen

I cut you from the roadside

and mingled your bright orange stars

with lacy queen anne from Grandpa’s field.

I placed you in a blue crock

on the table set with cloth napkins

for my first full course dinner:

southern fried chicken and heavenly ice cream pie.

So proud.

Your cheer matched my heart’s joy.

June, age twenty-eight

on an impromptu county road walk

with my two sons, one newborn in the stroller

I captured your beauty on film:

swathing roadsides in brilliant color

shouting to the whole world

your orange glory, and I remembered

He is making all things new.


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