The garage again.
I'm walking up the stairs, between the second and third deck. I spot a triad of articulated saffron leaves, on a tiny branch on the landing. Each of the three leaves is nearly oval, lanceolate, almost labial, pointed at the top, jagged points along the sides.
This trinity of ambrosia is there, for the taking. It is meant for me. Or for anyone who cares to see it and embrace it.
I lift it up into my hands, in procession to my car. The perfect coda to a day, a week, a life. The incense for this holy walk is my own breath.
3 comments:
lan·ceo·late (lan′sē ə lit, lāt′)
adjective
narrow and tapering like the head of a lance, as certain leaves
~ Thanks for the vocab lesson, PK.
"a triad of articulated saffron leaves" ~ very nice
beautiful - picture and prose...thanks
Lovely. What a joy it is when we see clearly.
Puss
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