On a windy winter day



On a windy winter day

I saw a woman walking into the park woods.

She picked up a fallen twig and examined it.

She threw it away to find another.


“What are you looking for?” I was curious and asked.

“A twig for my flower arrangement” she said.

“But it’s not a flower, just a dead twig,” I said.

She nodded and smiled


“Small yellow flowers here, big white one here.”

She said as if she was talking to herself.

Maybe a red or orange one here would be just right.

She seemed clearly visualizing her completed work.


“The flowers would look much nicer with this twig.”

She said and walked further into the woods.


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