– THE BUD OPENS-
Upon a silent cue from Nature,
The green bud holders relent and
Out ‘scapes a magical bloom-
Not roseate or petal shaped, but with
Golden– red, gossamer curls, all
In orbit about an ever-sparkling base.
Stem and bloom now nodding
In the warm, gentle breeze-
Like a free-floating downy feather.
In the floral fragrance, flutters,
Our old friend, the pretty butterfly-
Calling down, between flickering antennae
To the ascending lady bug,
(Both by now senior citizens)
“Why do you tarry?” “Why so slow?”
To which the breathless bug replied,
It’s harder this time, there’s a new shoot.