FLOWER Power

Slowly, the first

petals yawned

and stretched...

Like fingers

wiggling

inside a fist.

The petals stretched

some more

as the first sting

of dawn touched

their tender tips.

Then wetness

entered their soul

in drops too

small to be seen.

Or heard.

The wetness tongued

their insides

and sucked at

their innermost parts.

Together the warmth

and the wetness

rubbed their unseen

rut onto the petals.

Their yawn widened

and stretched

until it became

a soft and muffled moan.

The first row of petals

grew bigger as they

yawned and stretched

and thrashed about wildly

pushing the second row

then the third and

the fourth and the fifth

behind them.

The frenzy spread like falling,

slow-motion dominos.

It all happened slowly.

Somewhat like destiny.

And then the flower moaned

and shivered as it felt

a deep 'rising' inside it.

Slowly, in rhythmic pulses,

the rising kept

rising and rising

and rising and rising

and rising

up the flower's stalk

through its middle

to the tips of its petals

rising and rising

till the flower came

out all grown-up and smiling.