When the Roses Speak, I Pay Attention - Mary Oliver Monday

WHEN THE ROSES SPEAK, I PAY ATTENTION
by Mary Oliver from Thirst (Beacon Press)

"As long as we are able to
be extravagant we will be
hugely and damply
extravagant.  Then we will drop
foil by foil to the ground.  This
is our unalterable task, joyfully."

And they went on, "Listen,
the heart-shackles are not as you think,
death, illness, pain,
unrequited hope, not loneliness, but

lassitude, rue, vainglory, fear, anxiety,
selfishness."

Their fragrance all the while rising
from their blind bodies, making me
spin with joy.

Friday I came home from the grocery store with bags full of produce and an arm full of scarlet tinged yellow roses and fiery red ranunculus (or is that ranunulae?).  I put them in my favorite Roseville vase and placed them on my dresser.  Every time I passed by that afternoon, I'd pause to rearrange a stem or admire the way the flowers were slowly unfolding.  By bedtime however, the ranunculus were dark, droopy, and closing in on themselves.  I went to bed planning to get up Saturday morning and throw them away (after all, I had dropped them in the parking lot so maybe my klutziness contributed to their early demise) but as the sun rose, I discovered their red heads were wide awake, greeting the morning with their abundant layers of petals wide open once again.

In looking up how to correctly spell ranunculus this morning, I learned that buttercups are part of this family of flora.  When I was little, my friends and I used to pick buttercups, holding them under our chins to see if the color reflected on our skin, supposedly a sign you liked butter.  I always thought it was kind of a stupid test.  I didn't need a flower to confirm my love for butter as my mother often told the tale of me, as a toddler,  sucking the butter off a piece of toast and hand the soggy bit of bread back to her pleading, "More."  I didn't need to hear what the ranunculus were saying to me back then, but this weekend I paid attention as they spoke of when to be open, flourishing, flashy, and when to turn inward, rest, and retreat.  The roses in my bouquet, haven't had much to say to me yet but I'm listening. . .

What is speaking to you and what are you paying attention to today?