Burning Bushes

Those who are awake live in a constant state of amazement. – Buddha

I walked right by it yesterday
the burning bush I did not notice
would not have noticed
but for a friend who said,
Look here.
A flaming gold azalea reaching
blazing against the springtime green
of silent woods where I found myself
on holy ground
while each clustered blossom
cried out, “I am wonder!”
I should have knelt
in humble adoration.
Instead, I wondered
how often
have I walked by burning bushes?
how many times a day?
failing to notice
a streak of orange
a spray of indigo
a bloom of cinnamon
a whisper of purple
a beckoning of vermilion
blind and deaf
to the grace
of amazement?

© Rosemary McMahan