Sunday morning sauntering
together past—pinkwhite
rosebush after
pinkwhite rosebush—my romantic side kept leaping
and tugging hard against
my own commonsense intuition—
to reach
and pluck the finest blossom
and pin the specimen
fast under your headband—
in order to somehow
further advance—this curious cumulative notion
I have of how beauty works.
Luckily—before acting
I thought a bit better
of the audacity! and
the fruitlessness
of presuming
to tamp down such a wild crown
as loveliness—by snipping
and sticking it way
out of context.
