Waltz of the Wallflower

you’re a flower bordering
the Trans-Canada Trail—
yellow petals delicate,
five and open

I’m a kilometre west
of St. Jacobs—there’s
a hint of Conestoga River
beyond thin cedars

that’s north—south, a corn
field wafting to scrub bush
and new suburban development

I aim the camera, focus, shoot
the photo flashes on the LED—
you’re yellow flower in front
of green brokah curtain—
gorgeous star of this morning
scene and I don’t know your name