the patches of low
clover that swept to meet
the edge of the road,
a few taller slender necks
of green stood bobbing in
the breeze—each blind
gust casually animating
their lazy pretty heads.
Part of me lept
and thought he wanted
to seize and give them all to you—
but the rest just
enjoyed allowing
the simple white
and yellow shock
of coy daisies to go on peeking
bobbing waving wagging
nodding—just
like you do,
just like
you do, just
like—hello,
yes sir, thank
you, right
ma'am—you
do, you do,
you do.
