“What’s it like to bloom?”

I asked Buttercup

She stood silent

radiant

unapologetic

Not trying to be

Daffodil, or

Dandelion

No apparent wish to be

Rose, or

Daisy

Not seeming worried about

threats of

future weather

or careless feet

I waited for a reply

She just continued to

shine

All of Herself

at me

without explanation