Pollination

I move,
like the butterfly along the creek,

Flitting from spot to spot,
kissing "this" with my attention
and then "that."

Hovering, I feel the messages
on the hot summer breeze,
Drawing me
through some instinctual force
from bloom to bloom,
from rock to tree,
from shade to sun,
from fern to flower.

'Tis I who am being pollinated this time.