hand, full of flowers

This new morning of this new year of this new decade, I find my hands full. Of flowers. From our yard. From the the manicurista who painstakingly drew tiny white petals with a pink center dot on each and every nail of my middle-aged hands.

Such delicate skill. Such intricate artistry, from the human and the heavenly. Such is the mystery of the precious moments we hold in the palms of our hands.