We, the Flower


A flower,
with no effort at all,
all day, and nothing else,
doing the work of
growing and rising,
coming into being,
listening to the very heart
of what moves us
to know when to open
her petals
and receive
golden sun,
when to curl inward
to take rest,
to enter a period
of receptivity and
This is the contemplation
of a flower,
her mechanism of hope,
her bearing witness
in rhythm and cycles,
her lesson,
each day,
in motion and stasis,
in sun and moon,
in the small deaths we make
in order to rise and
to live.
– TT