Hovering above a field of goldenrod,
the fog lifted slowly and floated away.
Swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze,
the stalks readied themselves for a better view.
Listening to an important financial discussion,
hoping to understand and process the information–
my thoughts kept returning to the zinnias
in my mother’s late summer garden.
Sweet little greens growing in a contained world–
If only I could nestle at your side, deep within the silvery moss
and nap against translucent crystals.