Spellbound

Outside my window a climbing hydrangea
inches up a trellis.
Three or four years now,
no blooms. But I'm patient.

You can’t force beauty.
It arrives in its own time.
The burnt orange tiger lily
with petals of silk.

The royal bearded iris.
The dependable hosta.
From sandy soil,
a seed germinates coaxing

buds to burst with petals
unfolding like intricate origami.
Year after year,
I have done nothing

but give them a little water.
Their blooming
is a kind of miracle.
What if we began

looking at things
as if it were the first time
we’ve seen them.
Imagine. That

chimpanzee in the news,
caged his entire life,
finally moved to a sanctuary
where he sees the open

sky for the first time.
In the photo he stands upright,
mouth agape, gazing upward
in wide-eyed noiseless wonder.