Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

Daffodils bow their heads, shyly pour their golden silence,

evade the prying lens, beckon human eyes of the very young,

beetles and squirrels scurrying below, those willing to lie down

on moist cold dirt to peer inside, past the attention-seeking stigma

to the hushed ovary, protectively hidden, the seed-bearing life-giver

we charge past, ignore until the day we slow down,

allowing ourselves to move at the pace of the bloom.