White Stone Journal

By the path

I saw a flower

with petals

white, violet and red.

As my business was pressing

I could not gaze on it

as long as I wished

but plucked it

to cheer my way.

Forgetfully, I crushed

it as I walked

and left it behind.

Much later

I found another

as beautiful.

I pulled it from the soil

roots and all

and took it with me.

I shared this wonder

with others who journeyed

on the same road.

Many touched it,

the roots and petals

until it was broken

and bruised

and not lovely at all.

I left it behind.

Another flower,

the same as the others,

held my gaze.

Learning my lesson,

I enjoyed the sight

and the fragrance.

I kissed it lightly

with my hand

then,

kept its dim memory

in my heart,

turned away and

walked on.

With empty hands

I greeted strangers

and suggested they watch for flowers.

William E. Rushman, February 2000