Sunday, May 6, 2012

Gifted reminder

A storm is coming in.  I walked the yard in the in the wind of the clouds’ footsteps. The precious red flowers cling to their tissue petals. What the wind does not take the rain surely will.  Picking up one of the fallen its texture makes me gasp.  It is not like tissue or paper, they feel almost like rubber.  Nature delights in surprises and gifts.  So many await us, unopened  gifts beneath her Christmas trees and life.  I watch a few more fall, saddened, their beauty will be missed.  Moreso, now that I know their texture.  And then I see my feather, lying atop one of the fallen petals.  “And the bird, she still flies.”

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