Don't worry,
Things take the time they take.
Don't worry,
How many roads did St.
Augustine follow before he became St.
Augustine?
Walking the Indian River.
I'm ready for spring,
But it hasn't arrived.
Not yet.
Still,
I take my walk,
Looking for any early enhancements.
It's mostly attitude.
I'm certain I'll see something.
I start down the path,
Peering in all directions.
The mangroves,
As always,
Are standing in their beloved water.
Their new leaves very small and tender and pale.
And look,
The way the rising sun strikes them.
They could be flowers opening.
Roses.
Everyone now and again wonders about those questions that have no ready answers.
First,
Because God's existence,
What happens when the curtain goes down and nothing stops it?
Not kissing,
Not going to the mall,
Not the Super Bowl.
Wild roses,
I said to them one morning.
Do you have the answers?
And if you do,
Would you tell me?
The roses laughed softly.
Forgive us,
They said.
But as you can see,
We are just now entirely busy being roses.
Moments.
There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled,
Like telling someone you love them or giving your money away.
All of it.
Your heart is beating,
Isn't it?
You are not in chains,
Are you?
There is nothing more pathetic than caution when headlong might save a life,
Even possibly your own.
The world I live in.
I have refused to live locked in the orderly house of reasons and proofs.
The world I live in and believe in is wider than that.
And anyway,
What's wrong with maybe?
You wouldn't believe what once or twice I have seen.
I'll just tell you this.
Only if there are angels in your head will you ever possibly see one.
