Blooming Still

Seneca bloom until the sky cannot let you grow anymore, until optimism rests against your roots and your petals are reborn with the glorious and final breath of dawn.

You were born a daylily in a desert but still you grew against watercolor skies, waiting until the moment was right to find your way home and settle between raindrops and thorns.

Lay with the cedar trees until it feels like early morning before the comfortable silence is drowned out by quiet that buzzes like flies on a foal.

Leave your heart against the cross until you see yourself completely between everchanging leaves and starlings that sit on barren branches until spring.