mosaic

A sweet Arizona morning.
Rare, magical rain creates a mosaic,
dancing circles on the surface of the pool.
My coffee is cold,
my heart is sore,
and my dogs just peed on the floor.
But isn't that cool breeze lovely?

The oleanders sway,
scattering red, pink, and white blossoms,
a carpet on which to dance.
My mother is dead,
I miss her peal of laughter,
when a shared memory moved us.
But those colors are beautiful, aren't they?

Mosaic of life,
each moment a potential mix,
of precious joy and life-changing sorrow.
My philodendron is fading,
I really should vacuum this dog hair,
and I ought to fix some lunch.
But doesn't that rain sound amazing?