When I saw this week’s dVerse Quadrille prompt—a poem of exactly 44 words using some form of “flower”—I felt that familiar tug toward the strange. Flowers are supposed to be gentle, decorative, symbols of softness and spring. But I’ve always been drawn to the moments when the natural world leans in a little too close…when it feels like it’s paying attention back.
Maybe it’s the horror writer in me. Or maybe it’s the part of me that believes communication doesn’t stop at species lines. Maybe it’s just that February has me craving something alive. Even if that “something” is a little uncanny.
Either way, this prompt opened a door—and something green and patient stepped through.
Listening to the Flowers
The flower leaned toward me,
like it recognized a thought
I hadn’t spoken.
Its petals trembled,
brushing the air with a quiet intention.
I felt it listening,
patient and aware,
until the soil shifted beneath us—slow,
deliberate—reminding me the
conversation had already begun.
Writing this felt like eavesdropping on a root‑deep whisper network—one of those moments where nature doesn’t just sit pretty; it participates. It listens. It answers.
And honestly? That’s the kind of energy I love bringing into my fiction: the sense that the world is alive in ways we haven’t fully learned to hear yet.
Thank you for visiting with me. For more Poetry or Literature related content, visit my blog at The Ritual.
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