Ipomoea indica otherwise known as morning glory has made the first appearance at our house this summer. Last year the seeds never even sprouted. This year we had seen healthy leaves, but were hoping for blossoms.
They didn't disappoint us! They are called morning glory for a reason. I had to be out around the outside of the house in my pjs this morning trying to catch good pictures.
Everything
I want to make poems that say right out, plainly,
what I mean, that don't go looking for the
laces of elaboration, puffed sleeves. I want to
keep close and use often words like
heavy, heart, joy, soon, and to cherish
the question mark and her bold sister
the dash. I want to write with quiet hands. I
want to write while crossing the fields that are
fresh with daises and everlasting and the
ordinary grass. I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be
songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything.
~ Mary Oliver ~
(New and Selected Poems Volume Two)