This whole day I’m watching a flower, with its outer petals spread wide open, like a father crouched down to receive his child leaping into his arms. The inner petals, however, are still closed like a bulb. They remain this way for as long as I look, shutting out the world the from the flower’s nectar. Open, only so far, receiving some. The deeper parts, the heart of it, closed still. I wonder to myself, who hurt this flower? Who drank selfishly from the nectar before its inner walls closed? And how much courage did this little flower muster? Just to re-open its outer petals. I am the sun, watching this flower.  I will watch and ray down and tell my cloud friends to rain but never storm, to let the little flower drink without drowning. Hope, I do, that the little flower opens. Watch, I will, and even if she doesn’t, love, will ray down.