It rained two days that week. Great showers of water came down and soaked the whole ground. The lilies had all appeared now. Some were beginning to wither away while others had yet to open their eyes.
From the porch above I stood, looking at their open faces. My cat tried in vain to get my attention.
In the afternoon I finished sweeping the house and went down into the garden. I looked at all the flowers. Some were like old words, withering away. Some were like words being spoken now, and the buds were like thoughts that were still forming.
I wondered angrily whether someone had heard the words I had spoken.
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