Beautiful little flower.
Her petals close upon the darkening sky
and she sleeps,
opening again to the morning sun.
Searing heat tortures her softness.
Storms tear at her fragile frame.
Yet she keeps waking, opening.
Closing, sleeping.
She does not fight the weather that takes her,
she gracefully lives.
She lives.
And how beautiful she seems
to me
when she just
is
through it all.
brooke-cutler.com 