There was space in the morning
to allow
for the tiniest of yellow flowers
to open
just half way  – a trumpet bell on a stem

And space,  in that tiny harmony
to account
for all the interweavings, subterranean
and above,
all the ideas that had to be here first
for all this to unfold,
from the smallest to the largest

All of this
had to be known,
and this is our gift,
that we are the knowing.
This we are given,
and this we give, in turn.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 22,  2021