Mexican Morning

My bench is at the edge
of a marsh along the lake.
I face a field of wide wet green
strewn with brilliant yellow blooms
that only grow in mud as rich as this,
a field that’s sprinkled purple, too,
with green and intricate towers
of tiny viney blossoms.
I cannot step onto this field
but only can behold it;
only can, while I pray,
absorb its cushioned ways.

At the sound of the bell
to end my morning sit,
I open my eyes and feel
myself become
a simple yellow flower in the sun,
basking in the welcome heat.
Feeling my roots
stretched down in welcome dampness.
And brimming gratitude
for where I grow, and what I am.
A human flower,
being.

©Susa Silvermarie 2022