It doesn’t have to be the blue iris. Give me the splendid silent sun. Give me a field where the unmowed grass grows. A blue true dream of sky or a few small stones. Just pay attention, tasting touching hearing seeing, then patch a few words together. I thank You God for weeds in a vacant lot, fresh corn and wheat, spontaneous songs, nights perfectly quiet, silence in which another voice may speak. 

(This poem is composed of lines and phrases from “i thank You God for most this amazing” by e.e. cummings, “Praying,” by Mary Oliver, and “Give me the Splendid Silent Sun,” by Walt Whitman.)