Creation

I lie in the field of wildflowers, inhaling and watching the clouds drift by. Each breath I take is deep an easy, and I feel completely happy. Before my eyes, the breeze morphs the clouds and bends the flowers. Beauty, I think.

But who created it all? Who made the clouds so light that they could drift on the breeze? Who made the flowers strong enough to keep their roots when a calming draft blew by? Beyond that, who decided the clouds would rain or the flowers would smell? That grass would itch? That humans would walk upright?

I take my hand from the green stem and lay it upon my round stomach. I smile. I created something beautiful, too.