Revisionist Poetry – “Stillness in Flower” – Floral Intensities, v.4

In a field of quiet colour,
the flowers rise one by one,
each with its own angle of light,
its own way of opening
to the morning air.

The stems lean gently with the breeze,
not resisting, only listening,
while the petals shift and settle
like small thoughts
finding their place.

A fragrance moves among them,
soft and clear,
and the mind receives it slowly,
as it receives warmth, or silence,
or the first sense of being awake.

There is no hurry in their bloom.
They stand in the meadow
with the patience of things
that know how to become themselves
without announcement.

And in their brightness
the world feels briefly whole —
light gathering on leaf and stem,
shadow resting where it must,
and life, in its simple abundance,
made visible.