How God Makes a Flower

 
From woman I take mysterious crevices
And build from within
I pluck from warm southern winds
Evolving spirits and calming influences
Molding clay comes next
Merging within the framework has begun
The deep crevices pulsate with expectation
I surround this embryo with clear mountain dew
To immortalize
To nurture its beauty
And satisfy its thirst
As it begins to bud and flower
I squeeze aroma from distant, foreign lands
A pleasing scent to bestow joy and smiles
A rod of thorns, sharp
Blood spiller if mishandled
I stand back
Observe my creation
Not quite satisfied
Handling carefully I cup in my hands
The purple and crimson hue
Of aurora borealis
Let it trickle from my palms
Onto the folds and crevices
A pleasing flush
Or maybe a blush
Ahh . . .
I stand back still not satisfied
And so I bend
And christen thee with a kiss
Bestowing upon thou a soul of your own
And baptize thee . . .
Rose