Like a car accident, the crashing
of a seed into soil
(from there comes an offspring -
at 9, she wants to be like you)

your weeds rising into the air
ready to cover a whole field
with its fragrance

and shooting
your shot toward the sky,
the bloom of this flower
nodding its head in the sun,
entranced by its visions and
green power

There are no mirrors in your way
so you wouldn't know but
Richard -
you are so beautiful.