Dog daisy still
romps at my knees,
red clover at my shins, and now
grass pinks grow in little
Barbie bouquets.

Chicory stretches high
silky petals made of sky.
Soon Queen Anne
will arrive in lace, and milkweed
open its fists
to greet her with palms
of butterfly wings.

I want to set my clock
to this living wave,
count my life
in colors,
my minutes
in flowers,
blooming,
receding,
reseeding.