7.25.22 if I could

If I could give you flowers
I’d pick a wild bouquet
of turkey tail and eucalyptus
quail chicks, lavender and sprigs of bay;
sand dollars and kite tails, silvery harbor seal spots,
feathers of eagle, burrowing owl, and stellar’s jay;
the rainbow shimmer in an abalone shell,
the breathtaking dive of an osprey,
sweet basil and wild pink rose,
sun-lit sea spray.
I’d add queen ann’s lace and golden poppy;
trailing willow and spanish moss
the dirt-tracks of puma, coyote’s lanky trot.
Succulents and desert candles,
a touch of redwood and tanoak tree,
dandelions and a tuft of red fox fur.
sunflowers and blackberry;
echo azure butterflies, purple lupine,
fluffy clumps of foamy brine.
The rain-spattered lilac-brushed sunrise
blooming elder, crisp coastal mist,
and a hint of the luster in a river otter’s eyes.
Peals of laughter, the unbridled delight of surprise.
Sea stars in tide pools, the waxing moon:
I’d give it all and could never give enough
to rival the wild in you.