I Dig In
I’ve often wondered why I notice flowers. Their yellows, blues, purples…framed with varying shades of green. Like the smile of an infant, seeking approval. I think I’m charmed by their delicateness long before color catches my attention. There’s a vulnerability. They have no way to check or dress for weather. Delicate faces lure streams of sunlight for food. With unmistakable patience, they twist and bend in the winds. I envy their strength. The honesty of their existence reminds me of my humanness. Lessons from a bend-over-to-see plant took time for me to process. But lessons waited for me. To admit I’m vulnerable. Patience helps me delight in soft as well as forceful winds. My existence is fragile but with obstinance I can hold on to present time. The soft rains helps me reserve my strength. For the soil-sucking rains which always come. My roots dig in my purpose as stability washes past me. Streams of sunlight feed my soul. Its hope lights on me and whispers, “You are part of