Fickle Petunias

There's something about walking ... that steady rhythm ... the relative quiet ... the way thoughts float in and out ... nothing in particular ... just random thoughts ...
One of my favorite walking routes ... even in dry years such as this one ... is blessed with flowers.
It's obvious that the owners ... give a lot of thought to the flowers' gift of color ... that they tend them carefully ... and they enjoy sharing the beauty of flowers with others.
This poem is an outgrowth of some of those flowers.
Actually, I only became casaually aware of this particular clump of blossoms ... my thoughts were wandering ... and then it seemed that the blossoms were actually nodding at me ... as if in greeting.
I thought about that ... thought about it some more ... and when I got back home, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote this little whimsical piece:

FICKLE PETUNIAS
I have a nodding

acquaintance
with some petunias
who bob excitedly
when I walk by,
but then they
do the same when
a stranger passes.

© 1995

(originally published in Capper's)

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Today's word: excitedly

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Finally got around to looking at your entry, Southernmush ... it's been one of those days ... and I think I come down on the side of those, including you now, probably ... in favor of sharing a smile, even with grouches. I've always felt, in a sense, that it gives you an edge in the situation. Reminds me of a person I worked with/for ... who always seemed grumpy ... it always delighted me to find us face-to-face in a situation where he had no escape ... and I'd give him one of my greatest smiles, which just seemed to irritate him ... but it always left me still smiling.