A petal,
fragile,
furled open to await the black dew-drop stain of ink
or a field waiting to be sown with
spidery, disobedient plants that strive to grow
beyond the confines of its
neat, orderly furrows;
like Jack’s beanstalk, a ladder to
another world.
All you need to do is climb its rungs,
feet following hands,
and gently part its crisp white leaves
to find the land above the clouds.