Walking down a country lane,

the bank dotted with wildflowers.

Queen Anne’s Lace, Baby’s Breath,

their white tufts blowing in the wind,

and tiny flowers, white and pink,

I cannot name.

So small, and yet they fill the hillside

with radiant beauty and silent grace.

Beside me, the cars fly by,

hurtling along to make it on time

to meetings, appointments,

the cares of our race.

They do not see the flowers

as their passing wind makes them dance in the sun.

Walking, I take in each breath

with wordless admiration and awe

for the beauty of God’s creation,

and the wind blows my hair behind me,

perfect freedom, perfect bliss.