Here in southern Pennsylvania, the azaleas have been gone for weeks, so it seems like the right time for this sonnet of mine. The poem is inspired by the biblical story of the Transfiguration of Jesus (Matthew 17:1-9Mark 9:2-8Luke 9:28-36)

In an azalea garden one mild night,
A cloud of witnesses blowing around me,
Through waving woven-work of  brief, wild white
The pale moon beams where it sought out and found me.
Why does it almost hurt to gaze at blooms
That tug the heart with an alluring power?
We fill our shelves with books, and deck our rooms
With pictures, but we cannot own a flower.
Although we plant and tend it, still, its art
Exists outside us, unassimilated;
We cannot have it–clasp it to our heart
And say, “Just this, and we shall be created.”
Soon it will leave us for another year.
It is wonderful for us to be here.

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Bob Weisenberg Jun 11, 2011 1:12pm

Very beautiful, Scott. Thanks for sharing this with us.


YesuDas Jun 11, 2011 1:00pm

Oh, you and me both! It's so strange how I can miss my babies and love my big girls at the same time!

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Scott Robinson

Scott Robinson taught college music at a Christian university for ten years before leaving to pursue creative work and fatherhood.  He has written for Sojourners Magazine, PRISM, Cross Currents, Minnesota Parent, the Philadelphia Inquirer and the St. Paul Pioneer Press.  He currently composes, records and performs original kirtan with his band Mandala mandalaband.net. Scott is a professed member of the Third Order of St. Francis,  and lives in Philadelphia with his wife, two children, and two incessantly shedding dogs.