The only gift I would bring is to be
a wild rose ever blooming—not one that’s
fenced in and pruned to grow in such a way
that puts me center stage on full display.

I want to grow as I dance in the wind
like two flowers I saw in Ireland,
side by side yet fragile, knowing full well
that any moment could blow them away.

Both understood in this true awareness
of their vulnerability that they
grew strong. They trusted the wind to carry
seeds scattered, naturally, far and wide.

I stood watching them sway softly that spring,
and I must have dreamed of you. I gave thanks
and walked on my way, trusting true love and
community would one day be mine too.

Whether it will in way I envisioned
remains to be seen in this life’s long dream.
Where I’ll be planted too is mystery,
one I will savor sweet as it unfolds.

No stories will be told once it’s over—
if it ever does begin. Yet, the wind
will remember that we two walked the earth,
keepers of ancient way now opening.