Sister, Mother, Friend, O Paramour!
What passes is not time, but attention
to the wedded graces we came for:
unkept promises; without a word
to glance like steel, or choose forgetting;
share the wonder of a hummingbird,
or passion kindled by the setting
sun over low gold distant hills;
this azalea from a thoughtful daughter
bursting purple plenty, how it spills
its loving cup of Lethe-water;
how we drink of it, grow young at last -
not by regret for all that is stillborn,
nor yearning for a scent of rose in thorn -
but tasting full the Presence of the past.
Photo from All About Gardening
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