The Lily on 6th Avenue

There is a lily on 6th Avenue I wish you could see.

She’s thrown her burnt orange petals wide open. And she’s smiling straight up at the sun. Smiling like this is a big thing to be a lily on 6th Avenue.

There’s a little garden around her. A few of those anonymous green shrubs, you know the kind, I’m sure. They keep close to the ground and while away the days by staying low and tame.

But this lily. She knows to celebrate. Celebrate which is a word that comes from the Latin meaning to assemble to honor.

Tuesday morning, Friday morning, Sunday morning, I have seen this lily assemble her burnt orange petals and her tall green stem to honor – what big thing? Tuesday morning? Sunlight? Or is being a lily on 6th Avenue reason enough to celebrate?

And if this lily could talk to us, I bet you a million bucks she’d say to us, Yes.

To celebrate, the lily seems to know in every one of her burnt orange petals and all the way down her tall green stem, there need be no big thing. It is big thing enough that we are here in this garden.

And in this garden, our time is so brief. Too brief to while away the days staying low and tame.

There is, as the lily on 6th Avenue might say to us, celebrating to be done.

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