speak to me—
at least a word”
I talked to a flower
in my garden
It swayed with the breeze,
turned away
as if in
smugness,
anger,
forlorn,
or perhaps
confusion—
how would I know,
it wouldn’t speak
As I gently
drenched it
with water
and removed the
weeds around it—
a bird perched
on the roof
to say hello
I smiled—
wished the flower
could speak—
then went in