Thank You Miss Rosza

Thank you Miss Rosza

The nights that I must drop something into
our park's common waste bins,
dog do or my kitchen scraps, my habit is then
to find the nearest rose,
pick some petals, ones you would pick anyway,
smash them between
my fingers and the palm of my hand,
then hold them all to my nose
and d e e p l y, s l o w l y, smell.
(I believe that flower petals were the world's
first Kleenex.)
After picking the petals, I would always say a
Thank You Blessing
to the rose. Something from my heart.

Tonight I picked, smelled, and continued walking;
but 20 or so paces later I realized that I had not
thought a Thank You Blessing to the rose.
So I went back.
And stood there just looking and appreciating this rose,
with several dozen blooming flowers. Beautiful, elegant.
A floribunda.
Pink. Delicate smell when rubbed.
I gave appropriate appreciation and Thanks to her.
I appropriately acknowledge her gift to me, to the world.

As the Neville brothers sing Thank You Miss Rosa (Parks).
Let us give proper appreciation and Thanks to her the Mother
of modern civil rights. She sparked a pent up need for Justice.
The song acknowledges Rosa's gift to the world.
I can't but help think of this song as I acknowledge the Rose.

Is acknowledgement the same as appreciation?
Thus the same as gratitude?
Thus Holy?

Let us continue to acknowledge, give thanks to the things
we take for granted.
The rose (rozsa), the wool sweater keeping me warm,
The difficult struggle to be seen as equal, to comprehend
that We Are All One.
The Greater God, the Creator of All Things, properly She.
Let us never forget to be grateful, never forget to acknowledge.