This I saw on a February day:
Fluttering of wings in the tears of the sky,
Slumped arms of a cheerless Camphor tree,
while ripples carpeted a sunless pond.
And this I found in a February field:
Yellow petals of sunflowers skin the grassland,
while hibiscus tempt starving winged creatures
The black and yellow stripes float freely
searching for a nectar-filled bloom.
And this I tried to understand:
The feathered friends are blind to their hand in work,
while devious flowers smile soft and sweet.
They mail pollen with the flap of a wing
to a barren field clasping a brilliant future.
By Shelby Cogan