Whose daughter was found after
she had eaten a rose,
who worried and called poison control.
Whose daughter I can see with a
guilty petal stuck to her lower lip
while she held the briery stem,
a petal still clinging, and petals
floating down like feathers from a
cat's mouth, her burping, blurting out petals
Whose daughter told me about riding
cows and whose daughter I could
imagine riding a slow walking
cow, lolling drearily upon the
back of a black and white
milk cow along the open hillside
of her farm, with clouds like sheep,
so alive that they buzzed as they lingered.
Whose daughter loves God and
is a reminder of his way,
whose daughter married a good man.