Lavender scent on a whisper of air – poetry on a Sunday

Relaxed in a hammock, I smile, watching

my seven year old daughter, a florist

for a moment, carefully cutting

roses from the garden, clutched in her fist.

The thorns she is wary of, bees she accepts

for without their buzzing, there’d be no roses

footsteps are left with care, leaving no debts

roses arranged, into beautiful posies.

Each one a gift, for someone she cares for

her generous thoughtfulness warms my heart

this Sunday the garden is the church door

nature brings us both closer, ‘YES!’ for more.