I was wandering aimlessly through a park
I had not walked for a while, searching,
casually, for an invitation, for the whisper
of a word, of a sound, a quiet wave of color,
a scent on the breeze – a sign saying This Way.
We all, I suspect, look to signals and grace
to point us toward the most propitious paths.
Then, as if in answer, something said,”Look up.”
And so I did, of course, and there above me,
cascading down from the branches of a tree,
were hundreds of white blossoms, hung
like lanterns from a vault of emerald green,
shining their light, shining their gentle light.