Today I will see

nothing

but beauty

unfolding,

no matter what arrives

I set my radio dial

to beauty.

What then is beauty?

The unfolding of potential,

the art of possibility,

the color of the wilting rose

in the vase 

on the table 

left over from Mother's Day, 

the hop of the bird

among the thorny weeds

that I started pulling 

out from the ground

this morning

but then decided to let them grow

because it seems the bird likes them

and I like the bird

on this beautiful day

of nothing

but beauty.