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