If Dandelions Could Speak

Where the cinderblock of the coffee shopmeets the pavement of the parking lot, there in that infertile groove a lonely dandelion grows, face spread to the sun.

Lift up your heart; I lift it to the Lord. Let us give thanks to Lord our God; It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is right to praise him, she says, for the redeeming acts of love, for the fertility of chance and the life that brims from the dust of foundation cracks.



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