#7 to bless

in the field
of this life
there are crops
of utter crap;
rubbish and unpaid bills
litter the landscape
of sodden pools and
parched patches of painful yellow nothing…
the tangled weeds unattended grow tall,
unrelenting and useless,
plentiful and worthless,
but still sometimes
there is rain and sun,
in the proper amounts,
and cool wind
and wildflower scent;
the simple joys
to intrude –
to bless