Red Lily

Another rainy day - not that it mattered too much to me as I spent the whole day in the office, with choir practice this evening. I managed a quick blip of the last lily in the garden, and searching the Internet found this poem which invoked wishful thoughts of the Summer we have yet to experience.

Enjoy!

Red Lily by Keith Lobban

Sitting by the oak door,
ajar for ventilation,
she sipped at the sweet, cold wine
and gazed once more at the lily.

The strange, scarlet, turk's-cap blossom
began to uncurl like a purring cat
in welcome to the late June heat
which massaged each leaf.

The colour was hot and passionate
against the snow-coloured pinks,
the cool larkspurs and the stiff
chaste spikes of the madonnas.

Amongst these sweet pastilles
and white, wax virgin trumpets,
the fiery red lily had bloomed
for as long as she could remember.