The sinner sees the snowbell like the saint,
the Christian and the pagan share the sage,
all children touch the painted daisy's paint,
all people love azaleas in old age.
The shell-flower shows its cups to everyone,
the sun rose rises sweetly to all eyes,
and none would spoil the featherfoil's fun,
or shun a tan as sunflowers scan the skies.
Each one can taste the bunchberry dogwood's beauty,
we all recall the cherry laurel's charm,
as we know well, the sneezeweed's never snooty,
and bluebell's sound us equal their alarm.
Do we know better than the innocent flowers
who'll rise or fall with all our clever powers?
-- by Pete Voelz 4/05
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