I walk outside,
Stretch in the early sunshine,
Give thanks for the spring warmth
That has awakened my roses.
I am feeling the oneness with...
Hey, why can't my neighbor's gardener
clear the damn leaves without
the infernal racket of that
unholy air blowing machine?
I pause,
Catch the rancor of my thought,
Notice that the rose is still bright
And the warbling bird still calls for his mate.
At this, I realize the
Center of Peace must be within me.
Copyright © 2010 Mary Beth Watt. All rights reserved.
