Flowers so tiny they scarcely seem to exist.
A soft breeze bringing a slight chill.
Birds huddled in trees, so loud for attention.
But the flowers.
Ignore the trash, ignore
The dead grass and decomposing fruit.
Focus on the swaying white snowdrops,
The yellow daisies dotting the hill.
Sit among the flowers and try,
Try to imagine a simpler time when
You did not have stress, you did not have worry
And you sat and you sat and you sat.
Get up and walk, and small insects
Leap at every step, alert and swift.
The flowers pop up from under you.
They pretend you were never there.
– Anne Pyle