Where We Are Headed

At first we just say flower. How

thrilling it is to name. Then it's

aster. Begonia. Chrysanthemum.

We spend our childhood learning

to separate one thing from another.

Daffodil. Edelweiss. Fern. We learn

which have five petals, which have six.

We say, "This is a gladiolus, this hyacinth."

And we fracture the world into separate

identities. Iris. Jasmine. Lavender.

Divorcing the world into singular bits.

And then, when we know how to tell

one thing from another, perhaps

at last we feel the tug to see not

what makes things different, but

what makes things the same. Perhaps

we feel the pleasure that comes

when we start to blur the lines—

and once again everything

is flower, and by everything,

I mean everything.