It is splendid Queen Anne's Lace
Curling inward her "birds' nest",
Closing her umbel upward,
With spines of love fruits,
White like snow, with pink shyness,
When she touches lips of sun.
These lips are bees and
He drinks her nectar, his teeth
Are caterpillars eating
Her leaves with passion.
Each white flower has two seeds
Making him desire her
And her hairy stem
After blooming in clusters.