Is it luck to generously grow

In a place where needs are

Wrapped in the water? Fate arrives

Like a memory in reverse. Choice

Ebbs and flows with our perceptions

Of favored outcomes. The strongest flowers

Thrive through the revealed regular rhythms

By blooming with hopeful pastel harvests.

Beauty never stays too late. True

Gifts grown for goodness display light

Expressions of consolation when contentment ceases.

When the garden greys into memory,

The fresh flowers’ scents and colors

Remain to remind of better days.