Blue Iris

This is actually purple but the flower reminded me of favorite lines from Mary Oliver’s poem, Blue Iris.

“What’s that you’re doing?” whispers the wind, pausing in a heap just outside the window.

Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face. It doesn’t happen all of a sudden, you know.

“Doesn’t it?” Says the wind, and it breaks open, releasing the distillation of blue iris.

And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be, the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.”


Hoping you spend some time filling your empty receptacle this weekend! Have a good one, Blippers.