To the finches that dart
among the bare branches of the plum tree,
ravaging the pale pink blossoms
for the nectar inside them;
to the trio of deer
that move across my lawn at night,
and with their silent muzzles
nip the tender buds from my agapanthus;
to the honey bees coated
with golden pollen
from surfing the dahlia flowers,
I only want to say:
I am sorry for how much we’ve taken.
You are blameless, beautiful,
so good at being alive.