GLORIES AND VICTORIES

      

"Pretty in Pink", oil,
by Kay Wyne

     In one sense, I haven’t experienced much glory in my life, and the victories I’ve had have been of the unexceptional, unnoticed kind, but in another way, there’s almost always victory and glory all around me. Some small birds, as I write, are victoriously wresting seeds from the feeders beside the windows, and the sunshine is gaining steady success over the monstrous snow mounds in our yard, sending freed-up streams of water everywhere. There’s victory, too, in the tulips standing before me on the table, straight up and distinguished in a vase, as if saying to winter, “We blossoms are the bosses now.” And glory? How about the splendor made by the sunlight on the snow today, or the magnificence of the smooth blue sky, or the way each moment is replaced by a superbly new one? There’s even a kind of glory and grandeur in the simple fact that Delycia and I are sitting here together, peacefully and silently flowing along with the effortless stream of life.