Is it arrogance that stops the capricious chrysanthemum bud from blooming,

Or perhaps procrastination? 

The Blue Jay ponders, 

As his wings soar sincerely above the minuscule garden where she grows. 

She will be by far the most beautiful he notes, 

Her yellow petals peeking from sepals swaying in the winter breeze. 

So much potential, 

The Blue Jay perceives.

In bloom she is as beautiful as sunlight beaming softly from grumpy gray clouds, 

But she stayed in that state, 

Perpetually prepubescent. 

Curling crudely,

Her radiant petals of sunshine steadily collapse in on themselves.

The chrysanthemum missed her chance 

To flourish. 

She does not favor gratitude. 

For she had spent her time admiring his beautiful blue wings 

Refusing to bloom, 

Her underdeveloped stems greening in evident envy, 

Rudely rotting away in her own covetousness,

Each time he aloofly passed her by. 

She does not wish to be a flower, not in the slightest,

Staring adoringly at the Blue Jay through eyes not fully opened. 

She imagines she too was born a bird 

With flight as her friend, 

And the world at her whim,

Yet she was born a fickle flower 

Rooted to the ground in unshakable certainty, 

Never to fly. 

To the world, the chrysanthemum is nothing but a grave disappointment, 

Wasted potential that is solemnly self-inflicted. 

Even radiance can be dimmed to nullity, 

If appreciation is never employed. 

Is callowness the chrysanthemum’s friend or foe? 

The Blue Jay would contemplate,

If he had cared enough to notice.

But he remains preoccupied with the conciliatory sky, 

Valuing the inherent beauty surrounding him,

With flight as his friend 

And the world at his whim, 

Its infinite horizon offers him endless possibilities.