The bud, waiting, wondering,
holding self to self,
unaware of the ways of spring.

Day by day, week by week,
month by month—
what gifts will time secretly bring?

Come Water…Come Light…Come Warmth…

What is this strange sensation?
What are these colors in the sky?
This Blue…This White…This Yellow?

What are these smells, these sounds
carried by the cool breeze
across the meadow?

And now, glorious red pedals
stretching out toward the light,
letting go, learning to live,
surrendering to love.



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