drinking in the richness of her womb.
She draws in nourishment from Mother Earth
and is content.
She feels a Warmth from another source.
Not from below, but from above.
So new, and yet familiar.
She relaxes into its comfort.
Later, the Warmth pulls at her.
"What is this? I am of the Vine!"
Yes, says the Warmth, and there is more.
And she lives on inside.
The pull of the Warmth will not be denied.
Curious about its source,
she peers out of the vine cautiously
and the goldenness envelops her.
It draws her to it.
And slowly, cautiously, she extends her bud.
But the bud cannot drink
all that is hers.
Little by little, she opens the bud
and reveals her petals.
And still the Warmth calls her.
Surrendering her fear,
she becomes the flower,
blessing all who would see with her beauty.
Her beauty is of the Vine.
And of the Warmth.
