Consider the lilies of the field,
the blue banks of camas opening
into acres of sky along the road.
Would the longing to lie down
and be washed by that beauty
abate if you knew their usefulness,
how the native women boiled
the bulbs for food?
And you — what of your rushed and
useful life? Imagine setting it all down —
papers, plans, appointments, everything,
leaving only a note:
"Gone to the fields to be lovely.
Be back when I’m through
with blooming."
--Lynn Ungar
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