An afternoon freewrite:
The single white gardenia. The decision's echo. The grape and the smashing. Wet grass on your bare feet. You. I am grateful for the sound of your voice, and the touch of your hand. For poets. For nice cashiers. For ambition and fission, separately. Family and friends, family and friends. Grace. The blues. For feeling them fully. How my beautiful daughter smells, smiles, and shines. How she calls the dog "hoo-hoo," and points to the dogs' mess on the lawn and says, "Da-da, look--the hoo-hoo poo-poo." My mother and father. Holly. Rice. Beans. Nectarines. For a good cup of coffee in the morning, I am grateful. For your dreams. Grace. For the open telling. Grace. For the fact of flowers reaching toward the sun, a new and blooming gardenia.