The Colors of Communion

A close-up of bright pink peacock flower buds, with a couple of flowers opening.

Flowers chant their wordless songs
of color and scent, delighting like
a joyful choir at dawn.
I breathe in with my whole body, feeling
how it is we grow, quietly rising together
among spring’s green and dew.
The rhythm of seasons rolls ahead
and I, a shy blossom, voice my small
prism of song. I am singing
of the wonder of how roots
so love the buds they bid them grow,
unseen as they are,
while the buds never look back.