Sunday Morning XXXIII

It rained.

Then the sun broke through the clouds causing the raindrops still clinging to the lilac bushes to sparkle like little droplets of light dancing in the breeze.

In blooming shades of lavender and puce with tinges of pink, the lilacs hang heavy with the scent of spicy-sweetness. The flowers cluster in heavenly crowns of color amid awesomely green leaves and announce the end of winter. Like bunches of purple grapes, they promise the gloriously succulent taste of summer.

If the windows of our soul open only to these vivid spectrums of color sparkling in the sunshine, then our view of life will have an exquisite charm beyond measure.

We do not need to compare their homey loveliness to the stark white and coldness of winter. We need only to enjoy their beauty now, in this moment, and listen to the buzzing drone of bees sampling their nectar.

It is with simplicity that we experience the greatest clarity.
Chae