Where Does The Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

Photography: Trish Jean

I had a lovely time taking photos at the Auburn Botanic Gardens yesterday afternoon…I beat the crowds…I don’t think there will be as easy an opportunity to potter with the camera at the Cherry Blossom Festival on Sunday. From the cherry blossom hanging by a thread to the red and the variegated camellias to the beloved magnolias…these flowers are shining in Auburn’s backyard and it’s just lovely!

Where Does The Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

(Mary Oliver)

Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.
It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.

But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn’t the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven’t the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?

Don’t call this world an explanation, or even an education.

When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking

to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
little love-ring,

as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?

-from Why I wake Early

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