I hold in my arms untold beauties, like flowers in every stage of living–

some yet to bloom, some just blooming, some long since bloomed,

some blooming down, some wilting, some dying, to bloom no more.

All, ALL are gifts.

The latter-named perhaps more beautiful

in that they require more light to see their beauty.

I hold them all, delight in ALL,

nuzzle my nose down inside, to inhale it all,

from buds to cracklin’ browns.

ALL of life is a gift.

I will say it again…ALL.