Some time ago,

A small cluster  of wild blue asters

peered  at me through  rain dappled  undergrowth like curious eyes.

That was then  and I’ve been gone.

Today I found them growing still

in earth untouched by rain, as bright and lovely

as if they’d always sprung from rocks.

Blue petals wreath the  yellow center, like fragile feathers

 floating on  a topaz ring

I trod  more lightly.  There’s   blessing beneath my feet.

On the Third Day after all His mighty works,

after the Creator raised  mountains and carved  canyons

with a Word from His own loving heart,

after He spoke so  the forests greened,  the rose perfumed

and oceans overfilled, God said,

“Let us make wildflowers to grow on rocky paths,

from crevices splitting  hills,

from crags and scorched earth,

so when my  wandering children  

who stumble among the thorns and thistles 

with downcast  eyes and heavy hearts,

(as if they were not made for Light,)

I’ll let blue aster speak for Me:

“Lift up your head and know I’m always  near.

Heaven’s wilding at your feet.”