the lavender blooms in a shadowed instant
while we stalk past along the path
its fragile strength surpassing ours
breath with no lungs
food with no mouth
as blessed as we are with eyes,
we pass over them, unblinkingly,
free beauty ignored.
no sparkling mist of smoke,
no flick of a wand,
but the progress, the process of  life
is a magic, the likes of which
we barely know.