Amidst September's cooling jade
a lovely flower, Summer grown
has lately bloomed;
a Lily lone and white.
Her pedals each
reflect the snow she's never seen,
the white of Winter's past she's never known
and Winter's looming.
Each her leaves
reside in Summer green,
yet far more deep
and fuller still.
Our Lily lives
amidst a garden
racked with roses;
red and violet, yellow,
brilliant in their flowing folds and layers.
She looks about the beauty
all abreast in rows surrounding,
well a versed in every shade of violet,
cast of yellow, flush of red.
Without a glimpse
of each her reaching pedals own
all welled with snow and moonlit,
oft she weeps and pines
to fit with all the flowers
grown around her-
every rose
abound in colors brightly blushing.
Until one day amidst her pining,
every bounding tear below
now welled upon the ground beneath
her bowing head and pedals down,
she saw a Jay reflecting
blue and perched upon the water's edge.
She upward turned
to stare upon the warbler
winged and facing.
Long they stood
and both as still as Winter dusk,
until our Lily
glimpsed within the fowl's marbled eyes
the clearest, softest white she'd never known.
And at her slightest shift
the light reflecting flashed
to show in brilliant shards;
an endless prism lone and white
and shown like snow in starlight,
all aglow
as if the moon against the night.
And when she dropped her head
to pause in recognition,
all the white within the blue bird's eye
became the fallen snow;
descending softly,
settled softer still.
It's then the Lily's tears
returned to joy from sorrow,
overcome by every beautied drop
the maker held upon His brush
when once He painted white her pedals all.
