#flowers

THE MOMENT THE FLOWERS DANCED

 

If you walk as the sun is rising over the mountains on paths surrounded by the trees…you’re constantly surprised by nature's ever-changing beauty and her host of lively imageries.

 

With an acapella harmony emanating from every tree around…

you begin to notice the sunlight…how it dances to the ground.

 

You see the tremble of anticipation in the trees…the flowers…each and every one…as they eagerly await their turn to be caressed by the sun. 

 

But the sun is in no hurry…it’s as if each morning…she reverts to her childhood…as if this is her first time shining and she must feel her way through the woods.

 

If you’re lucky…if you’re in the right spot at the right time…you just might get the chance…to see the sun throw a spotlight on some flowers…and watch those flowers dance.

 

You must look quickly, however, because at the beginning of each day…the sun shines her spotlight only for a moment before she continues on her way.

 

You pause amidst that moment and realize how lucky you have been…for you may never get the chance to see that same spotlight shine again.

 

And you feel blessed you were a witness…

glad at the right time you happened to glance…

the moment the sun illuminated those flowers…

the moment those flowers danced.

 
 

A FLOWER IN THE SAND

On a recent walk along the beach…like most great walks…unplanned…we stopped because below our feet there was a flower growing in the sand.

 

I said, “Tell me little flower because I’d like to understand…of all the places you could live…are you happy growing in the sand?”

 

“Funny you should ask.” The flower said as he looked up at us and grinned.  “I had a lot of time to think about that as I rode upon the wind.”

 

“Would I end up on a mountaintop…neath the pine trees would I grow…would their needles keep me warm and safe under the winter snow?”

 

Would I be dropped in a field of wildflowers…to be visited by the butterflies and the bees…enjoying the sunshine and the rain while swaying in the breeze?”

 

“Would I end up in a little girl’s garden…where she gets down on bended knee…every morning just to stop and say hello to me 

 

“Would I grow up sheltered in the forest…is that how the creator designed me…under trees that lift their branches during the day so the rays of the sun could find me?”

 

“These and other thoughts like these rode along with me…as I floated on the winds awaiting my destiny.”

 

“To be honest as I drifted on the air…this destiny I hadn’t planned…I never dreamed I’d be a flower growing in the sand.”

 

“But here’s a little secret when we’re created every seedling knows:

Wherever beauty is needed…that’s where a flower grows.”

 

We were created for one purpose…to bring beauty to the land…

so my answer to your question is YES…I am happy growing in the sand.”

 

I think of that little flower often…that flower growing in the sand…

and I wish his little secret…the whole world would understand.

 

 

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IN ONLY FLOWERS COULD TALK

Have you ever wished flowers could talk as you pass by them throughout the day?

Have you ever wondered what they were thinking…what it is that they might say?

 

How wonderful would it be if the moment you drew near

a flower had the ability to whisper in your ear.

 

Would what they say be filled with important knowledge?

Would their advice be enlightening…and wise?

Or would they be happy just to bid good day…to you 

to the bees and the butterflies?

 

We paused on our walk this morning as we were surprised to find.

on a bench…a bouquet of flowers…someone obviously had left behind.

 

We would love to know their story…

Why they were left on this bench by the side of the road…

Were they purchased by a man for a woman…but the woman never showed?

 

Were these flowers intended to make someone happy

or to cheer up someone who cried?

Were they meant to celebrate a birth?

or for the the memory of someone who died?

 

What was the story of these flowers?

If only they could whisper in our ear…

and give us at least a clue

as to why they were abandoned here.

 

Alas, we did not hear a whisper

which means, perhaps, we’ll never find…

what happened on this bench last night

and why these flowers were left behind.

 
 
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YOU CAN HEAR THE FLOWERS SING

When you walk in silence in the morning...

you hear the wind whisper to the trees...

as the syncopation of the crickets

floats upon the breeze.

 

Soon the nightingale, the blackbird, 

the owl...and the chickadee

begin to sing, as if rehearsed...

their morning melody.

 

Flowers hear the singing

and, to me at least, it seems

the music wakes them gently

from wherever flowers dream.

 

Perhaps that’s why throughout the year

and primarily in Spring...

if you listen to them closely

you can hear the flowers sing.


FLOWERS IN THE YARD

Sometimes when things look bleakest when may optimism’s jarred

I take a walk around the house and look for flowers in the yard.

 

For no matter how much the word is filled with misery and despair…

Flowers help remind me there is beauty everywhere.

 

And flowers help me visualize a world where we’re all friends…

For the beauty of the garden is how the colors blend.

 

Life is not always easy…and it often mystifies…

But if, one day, we wish to bloom…then, by God, we’ve got to try…

 

Try to make our world a better place…like the flowers from the seeds

Try to make our world a better place…by our actions and our deeds.

 

For look at all a flower endures…through rain and sleet and snow

And still, somehow, in Spring and Summer that little seedling grows…

 

And its color beautifies our Earth…and brings the world some harmony…

And I smile as some of that beauty cascades down on me.

 

Which is why I hold every flower I see in such a high regard 

And why when my world is crumbling I like to take a walk around my yard…

 

Because each flower is a miracle…Its destiny predefined…

 

And when I stop to delight in one…I see hope for humankind.



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You Can Hear The Flowers Sing

When you walk in silence in the morning...
you hear the wind whisper to the trees...
As the syncopation of the crickets
Floats upon the breeze.

Soon the nightingale, the blackbird,
the owl...and the chickadee
Begin to sing, as if rehearsed...
their morning melody.

Flowers hear the singing
and, to me at least, it seems
The music wakes them gently
From wherever flowers dream.

Perhaps that’s why throughout the year
and primarily in Spring...
If you listen to them closely
You can hear the flowers sing.

 

View joy's Full Portfolio