Humble Hands

(Pocket Poetry) by Ralph Dranow (U.S.A) I reach in to grasp the voluptuous yellow flare rose at the rose garden, anticipating its intoxicating fragrance. My finger recoils, pricked by a thorn, inflicting a sharp pain, a sliver of blood, hurt pride. A teachable moment: You’re standing on sacred ground. Take off your shoes. You’re being …

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