I know this is an unusual subject for a Thanksgiving morning(maybe the cold has got my brain stuck in spring?), but here is a poem for your holiday. Praise God and have a blessed morning.
Flowers
Flowers flitter, float and twist
Spinning at water’s edge
Suspended in fluid life
Until a force, unidentifiable
pushes, they’re caught in
torrents of an energy
Out of control, blindly
Ripping at everything
Multi-hued and rushing
Entrapped in wildly straining
At times, mad
Ceaselessly, rushing waters
Of life, labor, loss, pain
Flowers follow, bobbing
Tossed and thrown
Waters almost overwhelming
Losing a few small strays
Of petals, delicate against
The flow, deluge swirling
Forcing them to dance
At last, the journey’s end
Uncertain, perhaps unsafe
The water tumbles, falls over
An abyss of rock’s sharp edge
The flowers cling, clutch
Tenacious to hold the liquid
Surface, then in faith
They release and reach
For a hitherto unknown
Place, in air,
It lifts, they let go
And rise to fly back home
SoulSails 