Earth Moments: The Flowers
I pluck a daisy from the roadside
Enchanted by the simplicity
Then shamed of my audacity
Place it gently on the ground
The roses tumble down
A thousand to a vine
Almost white -
But not quite
I breathe in very slow.
The wildflowers are bundled
No order, no rhyme
A mad jumble of blossoms
I hold them to myself.
I pass the large blooms
In the garden, in rows,
Colors matched and neatly planted
I run away to where
The wildflowers are spilling.
High on the top of the tree
One lone flower rests
I watch from the ground
Wishing.
Sophia White
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