Spring Equinox

It's 4 AM on the Spring Equinox. Can't sleep, so I go out with Willy, my golden poodle, to pee in the garden. It is so quiet I hear seeds arguing in the chilly loam. The rose says to the dahlia, "Be a rose!" The dahlia says to the chrysanthemum, "Only dahlias here!" Camellia buds jostle each other, whispering, "I'm the blossom on this twig!" A newborn crocus bursts from the frosty soil, its purple lips sucking at old snow. Even flowers are frail trembling bodies with enormous egos, yearning for the stars. But don't worry. The sun is inside. Every seed contains more than enough Light to feeds us all.