Touched

The little weed had often admired the sunset, but she had never gotten close to one. She lived close to the ground and being of short stature, she was not one to sprout tall shoots. She saw the tumbleweeds hop and jump for the horizon when the winds came and she envisioned them meeting up with the sunset on glorious golden evenings. She saw the spiked bristly ox tongue weeds grow tall and stretch up to get closer to the clouds. She envied the dandelion tufts as they let loose and flew, carried up up and away by wishes until, she imagined, they would eventually become part of the splendor of a magical sunset.

All this wee weed could do is reach out towards the sky with opened leaves in appreciation of the rosy hues and golden light. The weed dreamed, “I reached out and felt for you, the scorching fiery one of my dreams. I touched you and I felt your fire.” The sunset burst forth and painted all with red and golden light. It covered the sky and made the clouds into a destination for celestial beings, inviting all with imaginations to step into heaven. This weed did and so became golden and brilliant, forever reaching and basking in the glow of a dream come true.

Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.

We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.

Unauthorized use, distribution and/or duplication of any of this material without the express written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.