The Iris

I saw this Iris blooming in the garden, its brilliant gold and purple eye set deep among lush green lashes; winking at me from the ground so unexpectedly. It should have been taller, I thought - they usually are, Irises. But this one flowered beautifully close to the ground, as if impatient to throw its eye wide open to gaze upon the beauty of the sky. Two sisters stand beside it, one just taller, hesitant to follow suit, the other raising a clenched fist high into the air, her grace not lost beneath the spent blooms, curling inward to leave only silvery traces of her former beauty on the back of lacy purple ruffles. What a lovely plant, I thought. It looks as if it were arranged in a vase just now, poised so perfectly there. How kind of the gardener to leave it here for me to see. I paused a moment to drink in her beauty, and then went on to the rest of the garden, humming to myself, my mind wandering peacefully in and out of thoughts of the tender gardener and his lovely garden.