The morning when the rosemary bloomed
I woke early that day.
The dew was still sitting on the leaves, and the light arrived only slowly above the garden.
Tiny blue flowers bloomed on the rosemary bush.
Not dramatically. Not all at once.
Just quietly, the way important things usually happen.
The garden reminded me of something once again:
not all growth is loud.
Not all change is visible.
Yet it happens just the same.