This I saw on a February day:

Fluttering of wings in the tears of the sky,

Slumped arms of a cheerless Camphor tree,

while ripples carpeted a sunless pond.

And this I found in a February field:

Yellow petals of sunflowers skin the grassland,

while hibiscus tempt starving winged creatures

The black and yellow stripes float freely

searching for a nectar-filled bloom.

And this I tried to understand:

The feathered friends are blind to their hand in work,

while devious flowers smile soft and sweet.

They mail pollen with the flap of a wing

to a barren field clasping a brilliant future.

By Shelby Cogan