primrose meditation

(I passed these flowers on the walk to Fiesta the other day.  I used to pick them all the time as a child, with my grandma)

your petals are sensitive,
like the pink-veined delicate ears of a cat.
you're teacups of pollen, you are tiny cups of light.
you have spangled yourselves all over the vacant lot,
on my side of the chain-length fence, and the other.
could you care for separations?
you children of light, you cannot even see them
you tiny lights, you are as many
as sparkles on the sea.
does nature ever see things like a chain-length fence?
could I draw a line upon the surface of the sea?