We have never looked deep in its heart
It carries at the top waving in a breeze.
Cognition names it hibiscus for poems
But poems are no hibiscus, with anther,
At summit sprinkling pollen on breeze.
Airy creatures will land on the summit.
They will make it a hibiscus pure view
For stamen to nod in excited whispers
And a breeze to carry a floral message.