the purple cone flower poking through a bed of basil

stands as a bold rebuke to a world

that loves war.

so much stands in judgment of the course

we have set.

round red tomatoes breaking backs

of rusty cages.

Jamila’s  majadrah

across backyard fence.

grapevines embrace

bent trellis.

mint tea with matt

on dusk-kissed porch.

how can we make war

in the midst of sunflowers

and friends with cancer

and babies being born?

so much beauty

fragility

beauty

tenuousness

beauty

mystery

beauty

awe

beauty

God.

so much beauty it hurts.

how dare we make war in a world such as this?

if we looked . . .

really looked

we would drop

our weapons,

fall

to our knees,

and know

perhaps

for the very

first time

what it means

to worship.