Buds, buds, buds, I want to write, and the bluejay who took the pumpkin seeds.
I didn't know I loved trees, country of trails, switchbacks and meadows.
I didn't know I loved hiking, sound of crickets, hum of bees, summer
at twilight, butterflies and turtles, I didn't know I loved the time
of baby-asleep-in-her-cradle at Lake Lure, and the chickadees--
I didn't know I loved that they knew
where I'd place the handful of crumbs;
the red camellia--I didn't know,
buds nestled in the leaves like eggs.