Nestled there,
Tucked behind a riot of strawberries
Where water and life flow,
They bloom in the forest.
Audacity overcoming shadow.
The freedom of innocence and whimsy.
I breathe them in unwittingly,
Like sweetness on wind.
I remember summer days long ago
The plucking with careless fingers
For one fragrant drop of honey nectar.
Touching tips of tongues like magic
And quenching the endless thirst of adolescence
For one candied moment.
Never noticing the miracle
Beyond the taste.
All they must have weathered to emerge in that wild.
Winters can be harsh
And summers, unrelenting.
Yet, there they blossom.
Petals smile, unfurling.
A tender emergence.
Unabashed and unafraid.
Against all odds.
And, ever onward, we pluck.
Soliloquy on Imperfectionism 