Mei-Hua

I dreamt that my daughter thanked me for giving her flowers

She thanked me for

giving birth to her

for taking the time to breathe in beauty

not beauty as in fleeting youth but

rather the essence of the scent

when morning glory blossoms open to greet the new day.

When wind rustles between the leaves and

the quiet of the morning warms aged bones to wake,

This is where beauty lies,

the quiet stir of a child in slumber.