Naked Ladies/Tiger Lilies
Talking to Myself Thirty-Eight September 6, 2020
Summer is winding down. The naked
ladies have begun their rise as the air
cools. Some call them tiger lilies, but
I like naked ladies. They always
surprise me. The zinnias hold their
own a few feet away, and some
determined cosmos. When you’re
eighty-three, you heal so slowly,
but my helpers confirm: I’m looking
better, I’m coming down the back
stairs with more ease and grace.
We’ve lost our heat index days.
I can work harder, longer. I rarely
fall. My body’s slow to heal, but
it does heal. My new book was
approved. And in the wider world
where it has become so hard to
hope, we have good news. The
big industrial polluters are being
slowed and even stopping. They
told us that all we have to do is
last one day longer, and we did.
In a pandemic it’s hard to believe
in any victory, any pause in
pollution and devastation. Yet
quietly and without fanfare it
arrives, and the naked ladies
join in the zinnia chorus with its
pinks, oranges, multiple reds,
yellows and even greens.