Caesar will do what Caesar will do.
Do the lilies worry?
Do the lilies give orders to the sun?
The rain? The soil food?
The rain does what the rain does.
The lily stretches to the sun.
The lily turns its face to the sun.
The lily reaches out roots.
The roots reach and reach and suck in the soil food.
The rain comes. The soil drinks. The lily drinks.
The soul of the soil is silent.
The soil’s soul is as deep as the pain of breathing,
as deep as the delight of the lily in the bright-white sun.
Amen. Alleluia.
The Lord gives. The Lord takes away.
Caesar will do what Caesar will do.
I am a lily among lilies on the mountainside,
a field of lilies with roots that reach out,
stretch, wrap and intertwine, sharing soil-food,
the rain, the hug of the sun. And the danger of
a hoof and the nibble of a rabbit and a passing stroller
who takes a fancy to the bloom.
It is autumn now. The snow of winter will come.
Each flower will die and, in the spring, be reborn.
Is this consolation?
The seasons do what the seasons do.
I bloom and endure until enduring is over.
Patrick T. Reardon
11.9.16
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.