neither the bee nor the flower ever wonder what it’s all about
the bee probably doesn’t notice the beauty the flower is work
distant thunder breaks the morning open; as dawn quietly appears
to look at something with a curious eye, builds our understanding
of only perfect flowers were allowed to bloom perfect wouldn’t be
to bloom in a place that is not well tended makes beauty more precious
woken by the rain i could lie here all day, but the coffee awaits
when our intended actions get blown off course, we cannot blame the wind
we can share the sights and the sounds, but it’s a shame we can’t share the smells
if we missed something we all to often assume it didn’t exist
uptown jack 