So quiet you sit on my breakfast table,
mystery unfolding in your
tender petals shining stardust in the
silence of this Easter rising morn.
Christ is risen; you, too, are rising, inner
secrets densely wrapped and bursting
energy inscrutable, profoundly beautiful;
I sip your gentle pink assuredness of
life’s ongoing stirrings and arisings;
taste the fragrance of the secrets hidden
in the layers of your folds, whispering
the mystery of life to come, when you, and I,
and every blossom I have ever known, unfold to
shine beyond all time at God’s high breakfast board.