You see without blinking,
An allanthus bowing it's
A logical tree,
Blooming it's compound traits
In fruity dangling adolesence.
I see with squinting gaze,
A tree of heaven,
The branches a chorus of angels
The trunk is the lean sinew of a runner,
Bark rippling in perfection.
Where you acknowledge industry
In the poppy, from the back-alley
Opiates to the crusty aromatic ovens,
I glimpse faery torches in the blossom,
Seductiveness in the spores,
The flame of sunsets in the petals.
The wide-eyed spook of camoflauge
On a butterfly's span,
Is nature thinking aloud,
You state defensively.
But why not a gaudy french brocade,
Showy enough for a spoiled monarch?
While you seek reason in the cosmos,
I will contentedly sit beside you
And trace patterns in the stars.