Double Daffodil

Yesterday morning, I empathized with a flower in my front yard.

Its long stem bent toward the ground. 

Its sad yellow head face-planted in grass.

I wondered what happened to the poor thing.

Was it smashed by recent snow or did it just get too heavy?

Until recently, I felt somewhat weighed down. 

I'd felt healthier, happier, and lived with more integrity in the past. 

Memory motivated change.

I was curious if the flower was pretty, so I picked it. 

I held the bright double daffodil up to catch the morning sunlight, 

took its picture with mountains, blue sky, and clouds, 

and noticed its many intricate folded petals. 

It no longer looked sad.

Like the flower, I feel like I've been picked. 

Soon, I will be held up to the light of a new service opportunity.

More, permanent changes have left me brighter.

After I uploaded the daffodil pictures, 

I noticed the flower's imperfections.

Some petals have tiny black spots 

and some have shriveled edges. 

A small blade of grass was stuck to the back of one petal by a tear drop of ice.

Like the rough edges, black spots, icy-tear, and stuck grass, 

my life and myself are imperfect.

Even so, I feel the sunlight.