by Mary E. Lowd
The galaxy or the rose
Which is more beautiful?
The astronaut knows
One can be held in a hand
Grown on the land
Around you
Their perfume surrounding you
The other is too large to fathom
To a galaxy, you’re merely an atom
But it swirls
And stirs within you
A sense of grandeur
And so you stand there
Staring in awe
At a sky too far and too broad
To understand
All the while, holding a rose
In your hand