The Last Morning Glory

With so much fiery light filtered through  autumn leaves, I was startled to see this lone morning glory blooming at my window.  Not intimidated at all by the wildfires of autumn.  My first batch of glories died while I was away with my mother this summer.  I replanted, and soon I had my green leafy vines back, spreading over the backroom windows.  I never expected them to bloom, though.

So this small flower took me by surprise.   I wonder what I would hear if I put it to my ear.  It does have the shape of an old-fashioned telephone earpiece or a delicate megaphone, through which a whisper might be heard.  If you leaned close enough.   Like the conch shells on my grandmother's table, holding the sound of ocean in their depths.

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.  ~Basho