What sweeter kiss is there,
than that of a butterfly?
What softer sound is there,
than the beating of her wings?
What more gracious of a gift is there,
than to be pollinated, even once,
by the caterpillars life work?
Who is luckier ,
than the one who gets to be her favorite flower?

Often I stare in wonder at the butterfly,
who, seems to struggle more and more
against the wind as of late
when she returns to pollinate me,

Lately I have been trying to think of ways,
to make my nectar sweeter for her,
and all of them start with getting my petals in order.