It’s not the Birds and Bees
It’s not the birds and bees that speak;
O the colorful verbiage of flowers and trees.
It’s not the chirps or the buzz, cheek to cheek;
the waft of rose, lavender, magnolia breeze.
It’s not the high-minded sun, bright yellow;
sunflower’s reach on dizzy-toed stems.
It’s not the ebon chock full of moon-marshmallow;
It’s the intoxication of jasmine and primrose gems.
It’s not green leaves that wave in Summer season;
maple reds, snow-white pussy willows, and cherry.
It’s not the sticks and stones, nor pests high treason.
It is the birds and bees with two legs, making merry.
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