Do petals dare fly?
The river dances downstream.

Does the river sleep?
The dance of petals floating,
around rocks and moss, begins.

The water descends
from a tiny wound: few blooms
dare thrive in thin air.
Do petals jump from the branch
to the shore? The voice
of the wind inciting flight.

Do they dance? The song
cried by trees in wind and rain.
The branch lies broken.
Do roots encourage motion?
The forest floor eats
the petals that didn’t dream.

Knowledge is liquid:
motion echoed by orchids
who open dark wings.
Do petals find redemption
drifting? The rivers
reeds offering rest and peace.

Do they taunt the rain?
Nervous, as the wind rises
and calls them to the river
rushing by in ragtime.