–– for Daniel Pearson

When I met him for the first time,
Daniel’s eyes pierced mine
as I approached him, kneeling
on the path crossed by springs.
“Marsh marigolds,” he murmured,
pointing toward golden explosions
flourishing where the water ran through.
Pleased as I was to share his prize,
it was Daniel’s eyes I was most taken by:
the sacred gaze he applied to plants.
His demeanor said, “These deserve
life as much as we.” Like his life,
Dan’s death left me as breathless
as I’d been the day he beseeched
me to see what he saw
beside the stream:
the gold that grows in us all.

Top Image: Pixabay/LoggaWiggler
Side bar image: Pixabay/Sabine van Erp