By night, the mountain gentian
closes the dark purple vase of its petals,
tightening around its most vulnerable parts,
protecting its nectar from cold night air,
from heavy dew. Everything is at stake.
Oh woman who longs to stay open,
to ever unfold, to widen your arms
in an ever expansive reach,
what do you have to learn
from the wisdom of wildflower,
from the natural systole and diastole
of open and close, open and close?
How might your own growth
depend on learning to wrap
those well-intentioned arms
around your own center
and tuck in to that primary,
essential embrace?