The dance of the wind blew a tiny seed, It rolled into a ball and found a shelter in the ground; It rained, it snowed, it shined and turned it into weed. The weed is flower now and many more to show, Its beauty can't be found, but only when unveil your soul. (Little poem I wrote for my daughter) (I used in-camera double exposure of my daughter's portrait and a shot of black-eye-susans growing next door)