Yoga Poetry: Surprise Lilies
Green shots, pink ribbons
in the alley lining the dumpster,
or sidewalking the driveway
around the broken lawn mowers.
Past moving out date, before school buses,
they come anyway in the open slash
between the heat that levels us
and the storms behind the horizon.
When you don't know, when you're lost
when there's nowhere to stand,
there they are, never bent
or expected. They thrive on what
you've forgotten about, given away
or never used. They love fences
but don't need them, take attention
but would go on regardless.
They come on their own terms, a slip
of life writing to life: wake up,
stop being so predictable, go outside
in the middle of the night when the air
is lush and almost cool, and look.
Don't worry about enough for once.