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I stare in wonder

How can there be so many thorns

Protruding from within

Dry cracking soil, devoid of distinction or color

Suddenly birthing something worthy, so pretty

That it almost makes me grateful

For those prickly piercings 

Protecting beautiful flowers?

Each day I stare

Searching for beauty in rocky dirt

That's how I see earth

And you

And me

Repeating cycles of death and rebirth

Pushing away the pain 

Of letting go the dead blossoms to fly in the wind

While we love the living in spite of the thorns

For Poets United.)