It's Soft Colors

The wind blows the small flower
within my grasp
I reach out
Hold it softly
and touch the long, slender petals

I never noticed the tiny filaments
that cover the entire stem and petals.
If touched too harshly, they bend and break.
It is soft, so soft.
And I simply cradle it between two weak fingers
that planted the seed for this flower
years ago

I've watched it closely, maybe too closely
Stepping back, I can see that this flower
Is amongst a field of vibrant colors
Greens, blues, yellows, orange

I lay the flower down,
admiring its beauty
Understanding that it needs to
stay out in the sun
That it will get stronger
as it lives through rain, and wind, even
sleet and snow.
Keeping it in the shelter
Will not be living

Just as I have stepped off my front porch
to explore the high peaks and the valley below
The flowers must blossom where they are
and give beauty to the earth.