“Look!” she says,
Amazed by the flowers
I’ve walked past for weeks,
Blooming beside the weeds

I had been pulling.
“Oh, aren’t they
The craziest thing?”
Indeed, I agree, they are,

Noticing them for the first time,
—the craziest thing—
Felt, at that moment, acutely as
Raindrops on skin, or the day

I finally marveled at the sun,
Twenty years into adulthood.
So I stare, close as I’m able
To seeing, the purples, the yellows,

The rose-colored petals.
I lean in close, as though
By leaning I’ll learn anything,
Observe anything,

Recalling that the sky,
Its blue light radiant,
Woke me that very morning,
Before promptly becoming unseen.