Wheel of Fortune

Lilies of the Field

I am a week into Legerdemain's 15 for 15 contest--and so far, have come up with a daily entry! "15 for 15 Contest --- Closed"  Though I tend to think more in terms of poetry, I have written chiefly small flash fiction stories for the contest. The time constraint of 15 minutes works well for me, because I find it difficult often to sustain a story to any length with plot and character. I've been quite happy with what has shaken out of my cobwebby head and may be able to use some of these brief sketckes for slightly longer development.

I've taken yesteday's story, based on a picture prompt of "flower" and given it a poetic rendering. It seems to echo the sentiment of the poem for today in Coleman Barks' A Year with Rumi.

Lilies of the Field

Scientists vie
to compute pi
to a billion digits
or a googol.
An elegant number,
irrational, transcendental,
an undiscernible pattern,
all randomness and chaos.

We demand order, symmetry,
reason behind the mystery.

When the computer spits
its final digits
might it print,
"Behold, the lilies of the field...."


Again

Again, the sharp new moon blade.
Again, we walk a garden
with the lily's clever talking around us.

Green satin no tailor sews,
trees putting on their hats.

A drumming begins, and we play along
on the drums of our stomachs.

The lake that was ice and iron
now is ridged in the wind like David's chainmail.

A voice says to the herbs. Rise up.
The mystic crane returns.
The humiliated ones dress and show
their heads in windows again.

There is a public concert on the tomb of January.
The willow shakes its head.

Those we thought were lost are back.
How the sun is with plants
is evidence enough.

Rumi