When the rain clouds parted, a narrow shaft of sunlight
found the corner of the garden where a solitary iris bloomed,
bronze in color, as if it had purposely come to touch
the flower’s heart. And a wind came, riding on the sunlight,
and the petals of the iris opened to its kiss, exposing
the flower’s secret soul. And the sunlight entered in,
and the iris knew that this moment was the whole reason
for its being—this touch, this love, this light.