While cutting through The American Museum of Natural History's Theodore Roosevelt Park (on my way home from the greenmarket and compost drop off) I saw patches of Irises, the flower variety featured in the images atop this entry.
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”
These words are something I constantly need to be reminded of when I sit down to write most anything.