Unrecognizable now, a mash

of airy sweet-
ness stuck
to itself, an orange smear
dank across
the book where it rests.
At dusk you
had brought it from
the ditch bank
to the desk—
three waves, three
sepals, each dashed
maroon above
the stem, all
in all, thick
as cloth.
The stamens
sprung up, antennae:
June dusk,
dusk for
listening.
Now at dawn
an ant, determined
undertaker,
makes his way
like a cursor,
diagon-
ally over
the page,
the lily
of the day
is fairer
far in May,
fairer far
in May,
the lily of the day.

Susan Stewart
"Day-lily"
2006