No. 2 - Now Seeing

Was I blind to beauty as a child?

Or just too preoccupied with my mind running wild?

For it seems that I missed

The rolling of the hills

The majesty of the wildflower

And the greatness of tree boughs

Even if I saw them

I am only just now seeing

My mother’s beauty

Her waves and curls

Her youthful smile

And her bright blue eyes

I wonder—are these also mine?

But that outward glory

Even so pales

Compared to her giving

Her living

Her soul

It dances around

When she lays down

And bounds all the more

When she shares her story

Indeed I find it a mystery

That I am only just now listening

To the words read from the page of that book

On the page that I took

Or at least

That I’m trying to