Found.

insisting on beauty, the world does,
doesn't it? don't the trees, thick with green,
drip deep shade on the sidewalk?
and the tanned girl passes with the scent
of coconut lotion. and the birds are singing;
of course they are. red marbled throats
swelling with song. these primrose patches,
purple and rampant, aren't exactly a surprise,
are they? they are meant for this green, for
buckeye butterflies and a drifting monarch
and small hands searching for ladybugs.
there is a promise here, a song for this,
a sound that circles your skin again and again,
a thousand bands of light and heat.
you are bound to this, thankfully, gratefully,
and here is the promise: mama, look what i found!
just look at what we've found here.