Here it is in a bucket:
This is Connecticut,
And this is a cold and wet
This is wrong.
This flower does not belong here
Or in a bucket.
This is cultural appropriation at its worst:
Here in this rainforest
Is a plant from a warm and dry world
Whose reach might go for miles
Along dunes, across dunes, all over empty lots--
All sunshine, blue sky, and endless heat:
This is what it means to blanket.
But it is stuck in a bucket.
Look at these flowers:
These are faces that never go indoors.
They drink the sun and the heat
And turn it into color.
Easily stepped upon,
They nevertheless stitch together
The grains of sand that define
The limits of the walkable earth.
Go beyond these flowers,
And you better know how to swim.
Only you can save yourself in that place
If you feel inclined
To claim the water
The way the flower claims the sand.