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?
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.