Flower

Flower

Blanket cradled, and muffled the click of paws on tile.

Eyes saw dark as blanket covered my head; "Okay, go back to bed," I prayed;

but a distinctive sniffing followed.

"Oh, alright"... my grunts bitter...

Soft folds slid back, and I swum up from couch cushions.

Room rocked into focus as fumbling fingers fished for slippers.

Gleams of light hit eyes caked with sleep, and chilly air pricked arms and shoulders.

Stumbling across cluttered living room, reaching for the jacket on the wall hook.

Excited dogs are comical-- even when you're freezing...this determined little weiner

licks at the air, pants heavy, and jumps amidst sneezes and half leaps, at the clang of

collar and leash.

Clicking lock turns and red fury feet scrape the floor.

He bolts backwards, and anxious paws squash toes.

Chill of morning air prickles across the warmth of my face,

as determined breed wheezes against the restraint of my pull and trots on.

Grey clouds, black pavement, brown pebbled paths with muddy cracks--

All evidence that rain was here last night, and reason for the grunts to go on

"Aw man."

My snorting little hound darts across wet lawn, spotting the tree that squirles

had scurried up.

Reluctantly I follow, but halt as I hear dripping water, and see the little bush.

It was right between two portches-- front doors with wet walkways had a flowerbed

of mud between.

There it was, stting in puddles; drops of dew scattered askew.

It is not the bush I care about, but the blossoms growing there: delicate and pink.

Rain has spattered on them, and it has made me think "How beautiful is this?!"

When I think that the moment would not have happened at any other time, I am glad

that the soft folds slid back, and fumbling fingers fished for slippers... that glimmers of light met

eyes caked with sleep... that scurrying feet smashed toes.... that the room rocked into focus,

and cold pricked arms and legs stumbling to grab the jacket off the wall hook.

I carry the little flower home... this Camillia; too delicate to be bought in any shop would die in

a day... maybe hours.

But here it was for me to find; fresh, radiant and fine.

Sprinkled with drops of morning dew.

CES (C) 2008.