Untitled 01

A meditative poem on a flower, a stack of stones, and a moment of waiting. In a single word, how would you title it?

Walking down the familiar path
I pause.

Something new.

A little stack of stones
Right next to a flower about to bloom.

As if someone has stacked them
To witness the passage of unravelling
That they could not.

I can.

I squat down low
Before the flower and the stones
Watching the stones waiting for the change.

Time passes.
My legs getting numb.

I brace my hands on my knees
To stand up and ease the pricking needles
And stretch my back as far as it goes.

Ah.

The flower has bloomed.
In the very seconds
I shifted my gaze away.

The stones.
The only witness.

Looks like the person who built the stack
Knew exactly what they were doing.

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This is our very first untitled passage.

In a single word, how would you title this?
If a title or reflection comes to mind, you are always welcome to share it with me via email.