blush of spring, hint of pink, a rush
of blood to blossoming buds. I am intoxicating
scent of rebirth, of new-fallen rain, of dawn
rising with fresh resolve to warm roots, to nurture,
to grow. I am delicate
petal, slowly opening, a floral fan
dance, inviting. I am garden’s coquette, enticing
passing hands to stop,
to linger,
to pick.
