Sometimes, when I really stop to look,
the beauty is almost more I can bear.
Take these wild asters, for instance,
strewn in such abundance at the edges
of the field that their very numbers
make them seem commonplace.
And yet, what subtle hues their tiny petals wear;
how ornate their decorated centers,
how perfect the choreography of their opening,
one by one by one, until the entire pathway
is filled with their tender song.
Oh, again I say, please, let me never
take such gifts as these for granted.