When I search for a stone pelican by Helen Losse

 

to put in my flower-decked yard,
I find my money buys only plastic
flamingos in a familiar shade of pink—

not quite “sunset-blush pink”
or “pink-rose beauty”—
close, but hardly a symbol of inspiration.

I love the rosiness of petal-like feathers
yet perhaps seek mostly to smooth
unremitting edges. Meanwhile, God

extracts thorns and barbs to remake me
into a flower more lasting than a rock
polished by rushing waters.

2 Responses to “When I search for a stone pelican by Helen Losse”

  1. Pris Campbell Says:

    I love this poem!

  2. Thank you, Pris.

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