Imperfect in the Rain

I usually hunt for interesting or perfect flowers, symmetrical or angled just right.  The harvest moon centered on the horizon as it rises from the Atlantic Ocean.  But this morning I was thinking more about average, imperfect images like this Gerber daisy with the oddly shaped center and friend hugging its backside in the rain.  Oddballs have just as much value.  Maybe more.  Most of my life is average and then something tragic or remarkable can happen.  Or weird.  I wonder the older I get how much of my life I control and imagine very little.  I work hard to take care of my self, relationships, life things.  And yet shit happens.  Along with wondrous events but it seems to be the shit that I get frantic about, trying to make sense of the senseless, control what probably laughs at me.  For now, things are tame but of course something will arise and require my attention; maybe result in tears like this daisy crying in the rain and yet nourished by it.  This morning I am embracing the imperfection of it all, riding the wave of lopsided and average, jumbled and misunderstood but good enough.  Maybe more than enough.