Sunday, High Summer

Three orchids within an arm's length radius: calypso, round-leafed and lady's slipper. Water running over rocks. Sun blazing, clouds scudding, the scent of honeysuckle. Sweetness with my husband. A happy day. Dancing later. Writing now. What do we do in summer? We bloom, blossom, open up. The work is done for us. Oh, yes, the ant toils. But the grasshopper sings and the flowers--the lilies of the field--toil not, neither do they spin. This I trust. the seasons. The earth's rotation. That life was created from nothing--how can that be? Where did it come from? From life's longing for itself, says Kahlil Gibran. Desire. Plain and simple. The energy of creation. The stuff we're made of. What a beautiful day.