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Thank God for the spring flowers, she said, and thank God for
the garden
that was behind her house, filled with beautiful, colors
only the beginning of the season, but still in ravishing bloom.
Thank God she was here, she said,
admiring the magnificent view, the garden, and thanks
for the balcony beyond the shimmering pool, she said, admiring the sun's
brilliance and the warm cup of Irish coffee and the New York
Times
and the single red rose blooming near the fountain .
And for the Robin
in the maple tree and its nest filled with five speckled eggs
almost hatching
and the furry squirrel scurrying to hide from the house
cat
that somehow never manages to reach the high braches where
the squirrel runs to
and the bright yellow dandelions the intersperse themselves
in the green grass
always trying to cover the grass completely.
And Dylan, the poet, she said,
Who was always high atop his glorious “Fern Hill', and Madonna, whom
she watched
in the eighties, dancing and singing her way to the top, and Paul, she said,
Who helped to spread Jesus' words of wisdom, regardless of the obstacles
and the persecution,
and who opened minds and touched hearts everywhere.
Word Count: 204
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