Five times a day I walk through my mother's garden
stopping frequently to wonder at the inner beauty of flowers.
I bend to pick one and smell its perfume.
The fragrance overwhelms me.
I fall to my knees, my head received gently
by the soft earth.
As my senses return and I rise
I know I am watched, protected.
In the heat of the Eastern sun
I recall the cold of winter
while rain caresses my soul.
There are reasons why I move thus.