Early morning at the kitchen table. The blue from the night sky hasn't quite lifted.
Beyond my keyboard, a vase of tulips -- shades of red into orange into yellow -- edges curled back exposing the beauty of the black stamen inside. Even now in their last moments, the gentle fall of each petal has a presence, a beauty all its own. Would that I could live each moment as these flowers have, moving gently from stage to stage, honoring the force of creation.
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