This morning I’m in the kitchen
Looking out a sunny window, a rose
Wants water but smiles the deepest color still,
Pink doubling with white.
When I look at the flowering
It still brings me miles from myself—
I walk along this textured path
Sometimes a tightrope, thinking,
What it means to wonder and dream,
And hang in there—an experienced way
Of acting and thought.
It is honest work,
Constantly moving forward,
Pushing through time, progressing,
Defying loss and gravity all for love,
Where life begins and ends
From the moment of creation.
The result is a lot to be thankful for.
Garden City Park