A neighbor of mine invited me over to see her flowers. She led me to a sun room in the back where several flower pots were clustered on shelves enjoying the light that shone in through the bay window. As I stood among these flower pots, I noticed that, at least to my eyes, the leaves and stems of many of the flowers were arranged in ways that resembled human poses. One appeared to lounge in a suggestive arrangement of hips and thighs. Another seemed to peek shyly from the petals and foliage of the other flowers grouped around it. One near the window held a pensive leaf against her petaled chin as she peered out into the yard. Once I noticed these poses, I began to riff on the idea, providing backstories of unfulfilled love lives and spring mornings of quiet melancholy. I gave them names that seemed to suit them, and I cupped an ear to hear their secrets, as they blushed in all their varied colors. The neighbor just laughed and rolled her eyes as she took up her watering can.