Consider the lilies of the field, the blue banks of camas
opening into acres of sky along the road.
Would the longing to lie down and be washed by that beauty abate
if you knew their usefulness, how the natives ground their bulbs for flour,
how the settlers’ hogs uprooted them, grunting in gleeful oblivion as the flowers fell?
And you — what of your rushed and useful life?
Imagine setting it all down —papers, plans, appointments, everything —
leaving only a note: “Goneto the fields to be lovely. Be back when I’m through with blooming.”
Even now, unneeded and uneaten, the camas lilies gaze out above the grass
from their tender blue eyes.
Even in sleep your life will shine.
Make no mistake. Of course your work will always matter.
*Yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.*
~ Lynn Ungar