Past Her Prime

Good morning…

Collected with discarded Christmas trees, our son brought home a gorgeous, white poinsettia, a lovely plant who is slightly past her prime.

First, I drizzle water on her drying soil. Then, I tenderly pluck off her crumpled up parts – leaves, blooms, empty stems. Finally, I find the perfect spot for her to rest on the foyer floor. I feel honored to provide for her a second home, to be the midwife of her delicate dying.

Her passive presence draws me back to a poem I recently met.

******

The Patience of Ordinary Things by Pat Schneider

It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

******

I have found a new favorite ordinary thing – the bountiful beauty of a secondhand flower who whispers in white, “Past prime is a delicious time.”

Work toward unity, and live in harmony with one another. Avoid thinking you are better than others or wiser than the rest; instead, embrace common people and ordinary tasks (Romans 12:16, VOICE). Living in patient harmony with poems, plants and people, might we learn this lovely lesson?

“Past prime is a delicious time.”

…Sue…