Buds: A Poem about Flowers

(I wrote this for a Writing the Environment class and I think it turned out better than expected)

Buds

It starts small, like most things,
A seed within the ground
That germinates and pushes through
Bursting with life silently, without a sound

The world was once without flowers
Nothing but shades of muted brown and green
Until they added a splash of deep, vibrant hues
Every budding painter's kaleidoscope dream

In Darwin's evolutionary game
Plants in their still brilliance, chose wisely

Choosing colors and sweet scents not meant for me
But I take pleasure in them anyway

In survival of the fittest, flowers
Survive in the quietest of ways
They ask for very little, but give freely
As much as a bee wants for the rest of its days

I, too, like a busy bee, flit from bud to bud
Drink in every curve of every whorl
Peering closely with a magnified lens
As they sway in the breeze or slowly unfurl

Flowers are the Earth's dancers
Revealing their grace slowly but surely

Dancing on stage with the curtains closed
Moving and twirling for no one's sake but their own

I try to pull the curtains back, take a peek
And each little species in its little way can teach me
The things I've been unknowingly missing
But can savor whenever I want to slow down and see

Flowers that hold a certain type of magic
Roots, stems and leaves dance and call rain
Even we wilted, we seldom call them tragic
Yet we wonder if they feel any pain

They do a great job of easing of mine, my troubled mind
In these unassuming buds, I can always find a friend