A bright and gaudy thing it seemed to be,
I looked beside it and found there instead,
A rather dull perennial. You see
A plant is not aware, of its description,
Can't change its nature, and accordingly
Can't lie, it has no interest in deception,
Feels no obligation correspondingly
To act its part, the classification
Which determines species, hybridization
Lacks meaning to the thing itself. Could we
Become like kniphofia, unaware
Of that which"others" think they are?
We don't need labels, why don't we dare?