Little gods

Flowers catch our eye
not with equal fervor of the bee

or bird whose longevity
is here entwined,

but watch how blossoms
excite our souls

with affirmations
of vitality.

Watch how we approach heads bowed
before the little gods,

happy and exalted, losing
our ability to speak.

We grasp kinship.
We too are waves, bundled

sinews turned to the sun not
knowing for how long or why.