This is my place,
Under a dogwood tree.
The delicate blossoms,
The opposite arrangement of the branches and leaves,
They lend a bit of balance,
And I find myself grounded when I am there.
Even when I cannot truly be there,
I have the image,
The aroma,
The entire sensory experience,
The entire conversation,
All within my being.
For all that each offers,
That is what composes a sense of well-being for me.
The time will come,
I will see the green details,
And the intricate beauty again.
For now,
I must know,
That the mud, water, and even the snow
Are just temporary necessities,
And that spring, in time, will surely come.
Just as the blossoms,
and the leaves,
and the grasses always do.
Pages of Paradigm 