It's a kind of flowerthat if you didn't know ityou'd pass by the rest of your life.
But once it's been pointed outyou'll look for it always,even in placeswhere you know it can't possibly be.
You'll never tireof bending over to examine,of marvelling at thisshyest filigree of wonderborn among grasses.
You'll imagine poemsas brief, as spare,so natural with themselvesas to take your breath away.
