You’ve lived nestled along
our side fence—undiscovered
until now. Touching your
water-soaked trumpet flowers
I marvel at how

perfect you are. Why
didn’t I see your
blushing bright cardinal-red 
berries as more than
background noise? How could

I miss your intoxicating
honey-rich smell? Ancient
Rome called you good
luck charms, could you
be what I’ve searched

for—an answer disguised
as hidden treats plopped
into my aching hungry 
mouth? Gritty, muted treasures—
arbutus gems. Help me

truly

see.