The oak outside my window
has a brick façade. Unwavering,
it stands alone, being touched

only minimally by quarreling
squirrels and chirping, annoying
birds. It seems so complete.

Not like the flowers at its base—trying
so hard to be noticed with their Venus
colors, giving off sweet pheromones

in attempt to be admired. Leaning passionately
towards the light with futile effort to look
more brilliant to a passing eye. Urging

those with a penchant for effulgence
to come pluck them from their solitude,
and place them on the pedestal in their heart.

10/25/2004

Posted on 10/29/2004
Copyright © 2024 S. Pelham Flood