bridegrooms

this morning i read this in my prayers:

God has pitched there a tent for the sun;
it comes forth like a bridegroom from his chamber

such an image. it reminds me of this old gentleman who often walks by my writing turret, flowers in hand, a slight grin on his face. the man is eighty if anything. he clutches the flowers close to his chest, and once they were roses, another time tulips, if i remember correctly. he wore a burret last time i saw him. i imagine he is taking them to his beloved. oh, to be loved this way.

i imagine, for a man to continue carrying flowers home with such joy, long into the years of togetherness, there must be great rejoicing in that home. i can't imagine a husband who would gleefully bring home flowers to a sourpuss.

the wisteria which cascades across and down the sides of an entire porch trellis out my kitchen window has begun blooming. the extravagance of God is made clear to me in wisteria. the great ocean of lilac with its swells of bud and blossom tumbling up and over itself, is breathtaking.

leaves are a necessity of photosynthesis. a mere afterthought to the extravagant and joyful giving of the Bridegroom to his bride.

there is a dogwood, white, which is out my living room window. i sat to read merton yesterday (i spent the whole day with him, i have to return him today), and i kept gazing at this dogwood. something about dogwoods, they get more lovely with each passing day. i think, that is the most beautiful tree i've ever seen (and the pink dogwood, utterly gorgeous). then i see it the next day and i'm breathless again.

there is a little riding path through the church garden, and it circles through all manner of flowering bushes, whose names i do not know. but the blossoms leaping scent as you pass by. it is hard not to want to linger.

the sun is just coming up, the birds are still silent. but dawn is breaking. my Bridegroom is coming, i better go meet Him.