Early today, the lesson that I learned
was that the people who are most inclined
toward thinking well of me, if they discerned
the actuality within my mind,
would be disgusted, so I am resigned
never again, for fear of being spurned,
to reveal any of my secret heart,
to reveal any hopes; I am confined
by my own self, secluded and apart.
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I found myself enchanted by the rose buds of April in their perfection, their potential.
And approaching in May I felt their thorns, saw close up in my mind's eye their mealworms and aphids and I recoiled.
June and her fecund light brought the blooms 'round to bask fully open and honest to the world. Peering in to their tenderest inner hearts, to that place where they are fertile and give birth to beauty, I fell in love again.
And I wondered, do the buds know that they are not yet flowers?
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