she blooms on the summer solstice
soles of her feet bare and blackened
she carefully steps across the dried grass
runs her fingers along the top of the half-broken iron gate
as she talks about Carl Jung, Alan Watts, Lao Tzu

through a sharp and straightened smile she says
“everything happens for a reason”

a ring of golden petals encircle her pupils
each iris, a fluctuating sunflower, shrinking and expanding
wind chime laughter accompanied by the actual clinking
of bells hung throughout the yard
her marred knuckles and knees make her look strong

she cradles a wine glass with chipped nail polish
“it’s all exactly as it’s meant to be”

she scans her garden with subdued intensity
warm shoulders glistening with sweat
the heat has never bothered her – she prefers it
refills the hummingbird feeder and finishes her drink
sits back under the gazebo breathing deeply in and out

a queen in this kingdom, this heaven that she’s created
“there’s no such thing as coincidence”

I stay careful not to interrupt or fidget or pace
flop messily down on the concrete pavement
for I am scared that I’ll crush something beautiful if I’m not still
I want to belong to a space like this or have faith that someday I will
exist in a place with a more tender climate

she regards me as any other flower with it’s own timing
warmly reminding
“magic is real, you just have to find it”