Oh, orchids, be our oracles,
offer lost arachnids your advice
on the art of advance, of chancing
brave from dream to being, like the egg
imagined in the lusty robin's chirp.

What energy nudges growth?
What is the force that gives the wind its blow?
What impetus spurs you on to act,

to spread your petals, settle in the glow
of an indifferent star like our sun?
And the bees, they swarm uncertain,
how can you wait for the rape of your stamen,
for saddle bags stained with pollen grains?

Oh, orchids! Please, tell us how to live?