Chionanthus virginicus

The issue today is not whether you see heaven in a wildflower, 
but whether you look at the flower at all.  J B MacKinnon

They flower earlier each year because of global warming,
so by earnest calculation, I hike with the rising season
to the rocks of Fortune’s Cove Trail, eager
to witness their glory before their hard work begins.

Drawn the way some are to Paris or Rome, 
to a sports stadium, a liquor store, I am faithful
to them like old lovers who are unchanging
in memory—my twenty forth year.

Astounded to read how soldiers marched all day, 
cooked dinner, and surprised the enemy next morning,
I try to understand my breathlessness, my disconcerted heart. 
I pause at switchbacks for their further rise;
I climb to know some reward beyond my effort.

Some years I come too late for their brief show,
duped by the world’s chance distractions.
I wonder if the Monacan Indians marveled at
their diaphanous spirit too beautiful for use?

Unlike religious pilgrims who agelessly plod
dangerous paths in penance because they must believe,
I sweat today for less than need, but for the same reprieve.
                        

Human stupidity is one of the most important forces in history. Yuval Noah Harari

When the morning sun dumps its shadows
like a puzzle on the window-side table,
decipherment is nothing to suppose.
The world is blessed with clever fable

like a puzzle on the window-side table.
In this time of suffering and doubt
the world is  blessed with clever fable;
lessons for a spiritual drought.

In this time of suffering and doubt
solitude asks defining questions,
lessons for a spiritual drought,
beside the usual suggestions.

Solitude asks defining questions:
can we find lasting peace
(beside the usual suggestions)
when greed, hatred, and delusion cease?

Can we find lasting peace
(decipherment is nothing to suppose)
when greed, hatred, and delusion cease:
when the morning sun dumps its shadows?