Not Britney, Not Even Mischa

Moss roses are blooming out back.

The beautiful little flowers
open in sun, close in shadow.

In sunlight they are bright colors—
yellow, orange, red and purple.

They are almost invisible
in shadow when the blooms are closed.
The petals wrap around themselves,
twist tight, hide their color inside.
The blossoms, then, just look like bumps
on the curly, reddish-brown stems,
lost among the pointy, green leaves.

In the sun the flowers open,
the colors shine. You don’t notice
the plants even have stems and leaves.

Yellows, oranges, reds, purples—
It’s all too beautiful to waste
as a metaphor for something.