It may well be in the course of a traipse, even a pious pilgrimage, that a wild flower will trump St. Peter’s Basilica itself.
When I Returned From Rome
A bird took flight.
A flower in a field whistled at me as I passed.
I drank from a stream of clear water.
And at night, the sky untied her hair and
I fell asleep clutching a tress of God’s.
When I returned from Rome, all said,
“Tell us the great news,”
and with great excitement I did:
“A flower in a field whistled and at night,
the sky untied her hair and
I fell asleep clutching a sacred tress…”
Francis of Assisi (1181-1226)
*Travelers in desert lands have found that terrible thirst can be eased by placing a pebble on the tongue.