MORNING GLORIES: A Celebration of Natural Beauty

Terri: (gesturing with reverence towards her phone screen, where a vibrant image blooms) 
       Look at this—an exquisite flower, speaking a language more profound than any words 
       we might string together. No rhetoric, no agenda. Just... existence perfected into 
       form. (pausing, her voice softening) Why can’t we create anything that feels this honest?

Tim:   (nodding thoughtfully) I see your point, but why do we need to make any statement at all? 
       (closing his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if to capture the moment) Why does everything 
       have to be about something, signify something, or argue for something? Isn't it better 
       to just breathe softly, smile, and whisper “ahhh,” letting beauty simply exist in its own right?

IMAGE: A radiant central light suspended within a luminous orb, surrounded by deep purple 
       morning glories whose trumpet-shaped blooms spiral outward, their petals unfurling, 
       veined in dark violet, with throats fading to white.

Sam:   (taking a swig of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand) Alright, but… 
       (leaning back in his chair, looking around) what does this have to do with America? 
	   Here we are, philosophizing about flowers a Sunday morning while the country goes to hell! 
	   Doesn’t that feel too disconnected from reality?

Kris:  (leaning forward, eyes brightening) Maybe if we took more time to admire nature, flowers and trees, 
	   we’d realize there’s less reason to fight, to kill, and to fuel our relentless capitalist madness.

Terri: (laughing cynically, her laughter cutting through the tension) Fat chance! You really 
       think the folks making the big decisions give a single damn about morning glories? 
	   (shaking her head) Beauty is a luxury, Kris.  It’s what you ponder after you’ve 
	   secured your resources, established dominance, and built your walls. It’s not a strategy; 
	   it’s merely a souvenir.

Sam:   (finishing his beer with a thoughtful squint, then crushing the aluminum can) 
	   Sounds like some silly hippie philosophy. (pausing, he nods slowly) But, yeah—I get it.

Kris:  (smiling playfully) Maybe America could use a bit more of that hippie vibe.

Terri: (finally smiling) And maybe America could use more mornings like this—more time to 
       just sit and bask in the glow of morning glories, whether real or imagined.

Tim:   (almost whispering) There’s a kind of queer truth in what you just said…

POSTLOG:  They sit in companionable silence. A breeze stirs the morning glories on the fence. 
          Some nearby wind chimes sound like a question no one needs to answer. 
          Sam pauses, deciding against another beer. At least for now. 

=================================================================================
from _AmeriSong: Poetry, Art, & Dialogs about Amerika_ by T Newfields
SUMMARY:  Is admiring the natural beauty—specifically morning glories—a radical act of peace 
or merely a privileged luxury disconnected from the violent realities of power? An attempt to answer that.

KEYWORDS: morning glories, philosophical conversation, beauty and society,
floral art, simplicity, appreciation, and violence, sun and morning glories,
mindfulness in nature, American culture

Author: T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955)
Begun: 2001 in Nagoya, Japan / Finished: 2025 in Shizuoka, Japan
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} Granted

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