
"Consider how the lilies grow.
They do not labor or spin.
Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these." --Luke 12:27

I take my mother with me
When I hike a desert trail.
I know she'd hug the sunrise
And laugh at bouncy quail.
She'd sniff a yellow flower
And thrill at soaring hawks,
Then pluck a blue-bright lupine
And get stickers in her socks.
I don't cry for her much now
But I miss her joyful laugh.
So I take my mother with me
When I hike a desert path.
