Our Flowers
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They move to the breeze
Created by life’s movements,
Seeding nations, trusting
The world’s touch.
We may hold our breath
And say it was taken away
When it was only our words
That disappeared.
They offer themselves up
Like earth’s fingers
Pointing to the stars,
Sun warming
their drawing stems,
Reflecting the innocence of god,
Over and over hoping to be noticed
For their lack of any casual mistake.
Pull them close and breathe,
Collect them in glass,
Protect them at last;
They are each a living mirror
Reflecting our truth.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2020
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