Daisies come and go, but the plastic grass football field is ageless.

What a gift to watch trees grow–seems so much more graceful than my aging limbs and messy mind.  Rocks.  Gravel.  Yellow grass.  Sanctuary for my senses.  Heart enclosing the marauding mind.

To be a daisy–stalk slender, clustered with family and friends.  Rising slow and sure over the grass to mirror the sun.  Shifting and shouldering out of the tight green birthing bud, eyes closed petals tight.  Resting in the cool summer morning air till Sol’s warmth coaxes me to open petal by petal.  Hesitant and then wide and glorious to shine.

Peace that surpasses all understanding, confusion and figuring out.  Peace beneath, above, to the right, to the left, in front and in back of all my feeble mind tricks.  Trying to wrap its earthbound dissecting energy around Spirit that slips and giggles, eases and sings, tempts and loves to me to keep along this exquisite Divine path.