Something pertaining to generosity
In this shade and in this breeze
Whisper ideas
Curling into thoughts
Small and soft like buds and blooms
Clinging to branches in spring.
I trace their outlines onto paper
Arranging a bouquet of the abstract
Into something I can grasp in my hands
While I look for a measure of beauty
By which beauty I mean truth.
Satisfied not in whole but in part–
I’ve never seen perfection in what nature granted me–
I hold out my flowers for you to view
Your approbation a coin in hand
I’d gladly exchange with my small bundle of posies.
Beautiful Dust 
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