There are flowers on my computer tower, now dead from too many days.
A flower holds water so pretty, the rain falls, nourishing stoma and stem.
The gift of flowers is a special sharing.
It can be a gift to yourself also.
In Finland I traversed the land for wildflowers, and came home with arms
full of fire weed and buttercups and blue bells,
ready for the planter that hung on the porch, or the glass vase
on the table out there.
My friend paints flowers on silk, so beautiful; luscious colors,