A morning’s sitting outside, with morning coffee, the birds and the rainbows created by the neighbor’s sprinklers dancing in the sun. I turned to feel the sun’s warmth upon my face. And for a few moments, with a wink of grace, the flower and I were one.
The doorway into the house is both an entry and an exit. An entry into shade, things, solitude, chores and responsibilities. An exit from the flutter of wings, sprinkled rainbows, and sunbathing with a flower. But in the middle of the doorway lies a threshold, a point that is neither an exit nor entry. A point suspended in between and questioning “Which way is your choice?” Sweet Hands of Life, to see only thresholds, to trust their journey and gifts, and feel the sun’s warmth upon my petals and face.