She Puts Honey On Her Toast

I took a hike up passed the bougainvilleas And up passed This garden full of flowers I can’t name And up near an area of flowers That I can’t name To find one flower by itself. The vine or stem had crawled under a fence and scratched itself onto the blacktop road Slowly Giving petals time to unfurl into a flower Before getting stepped on or hit by a car. And it was enough time for an anxious bee To get its ingredients. Every time I watch my daughter put honey on her toast, I hope she’ll do it slowly and carefully by herself Like that flower bloomed. And I’m happy I know her name.