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I feel it in the air.

In the light on afternoon days,

I throw my arms above

With nothing to say.


 My feet in the soil,

with roots twirled, and entwined,

and in my ear finches

that whirl and chime.


In the grass, the wild flower I lay,

to take in what is lovely,

and unique in today.

Each day to start new

like a seedling that has sprouted,

I choose not to feel guilty,

unworthy, or doubted.


I understand this now,

where beauty grows and remains,

we have been created,

and none are the same.