Shelter from the storm

Ride through the storm.
The wind is cold, the sun is warm.
Brother sun and sister moon
when shall the flowers bloom.
All through the day and throughout the night.
I watch and wonder at the sight.
The pink, the tan,
the beige and white,
throughout the day and all through the night,
something remains that is still hidden.
Laying beside the driven snow.
The tulip that miraculously grows.
Not easy to see.
A great mystery.
Somehow growing beside the road.
The road that leads to market and all that is sold.
Standing still so as not to be disturbed.
Not bidding but owning its' own word.
For to say that this is mine for a nice price
is un-given and not given right.
For to say that all is to share.
That at least is only being fair.