design?

Amaryllis By Morning

just by the chair within which I meditate early each morning,
a big earthenware pot holds a grapefruit-sized amaryllis bulb
who sits there for weeks while Sun comes and goes,
two-thirds above the soil, one-third heavily rooted,
I water it some, just enough to keep the soil from drying-out,
and it says nothing, no new growth, no change I can see,
till one day in March a green tongue of a leaf comes out the top,

I watch it grow up & up, a stem reaching as high as it can,
as if building itself out of nothing;
whoever its workers are, they follow directions I cannot hear,

when it’s high enough for itself, it starts spreading out:
buds appear and slowly open into great flowers,










and I am like all the farmers, poets, artists, children
who have marveled at plant, bush, tree
as each unlocks itself from stasis
and finds within itself vision and energy to bring forth,
the quiescent to the flower, and then to the seed,
the marvel of creation embodies itself,

I know of consciousness in humans and animals,
and I am intrigued by the question
of how much awareness and intelligence
is behind the design within the amaryllis.

by Henry H. Walker
April 3, ’11