Poplar Tulip
I neglect to take pictures sometimes of incomparable beauty. I am distracted. Documentation. Maybe I don’t require proof of awe. “It lasts longer” when you force memory from experience. My friend Julianne pointed out a poplar tulip on our nature walk recently. It was a rare find on the ground, and had fallen from sky high on a tree we couldn’t identify amidst the many trees in the Wissahickon. Her daughter held the flower so gently in her palms and after talking nonstop for the past two hours, was able to hold her breath with us for many beats. I was so moved by the profundity of a tree flower with that much fragrant nectar stalking the canopy and letting us in so quietly into its glory. The flower is grateful and I am grateful. Feels like love.
This definition of gratitude pleases me very much.
