It is not uncommon for my beloved to come up to me and present me with a flower that he has picked. It really doesn't matter the day, the hour, if there is an occasion or not. Actually the presentation of the flower makes the moment an occasion.
It doesn't matter the season of blooming. Each time the gift is unique. Sometimes a large flower, sometimes a small flower, sometimes one would say not a flower but, a weed.
Sometimes he presents me with the blossom of a plant that is flowering, though it is not a tradition flower. Just simply It's flower. It's way of setting forth seed.
I am always caught unaware. It is always a surprise to turn to see his out stretched hand with this precious gift. He is not simply showing me this treasure he has found, though each one is it's own little treasure. He is gifting that treasure to me.
I know not what prompts these giftings. Except I know his love for me is behind each gesture. I pray my beloved knows how much I love him in return.
May this be seen as my flower to him.