Spring Flower

Little flower, tears to shed upon its pedal, yellow, red, reaching palms so wanting mellow.
Where bee and ant, in comfort settle.
Pollinate, capitulate and boil what the kettle thread.
Swiftly yet a shadowed ghost, or nature’s calming gracefull host.
As scent of colors calm one down.
And souls on fire swell to soft moist pettle and lightly boasts its beauty as its drinking roots resettle now.