in a breaking of bread <br />tasting the flavors of time <br />a break of fast <br />morning brings the sighs <br />of the new moon rising <br />in the finishing of thoughts <br />that teach how to begin again <br />can we still hear the rose <br />moan in her cry <br />frozen still in her beauty <br />after trusting the rain <br />or the sound of the grass <br />once bending in the gentle breeze <br />now crunching under foot <br />is there something that needs <br />to be said <br />or is it just me who feels <br />the need to grow <br /> <br />(Michele Buchanan)
