Beside our front door is a simple garden stake, twice embellished with the word LOVE.
When our rhododendron covers itself with spring blossoms, LOVE is an intricate work of art, like tiny panels of stained glass, reminding me that love is beautiful in every language.
When autumn sun dips low in the west, LOVE finds a way to squeeze through the shadows to illuminate our doorstep, and I am comforted.
Don’t you feel it, too? Love has many iterations.
And it waits at the door.