The flowers got rained out 

In the seventh inning,

Closed their petals at two p.m.

They reached for their wraps

But hadn't brought them.

The flowers know to shiver

When they're cold,

And sigh and sweat

When they are dry and hot.

And if they haven't brought their wraps,

They'll curl up in their wet t-shirts

Til the rain stops,

Then open for business again.

I see them in the sun,

Already hawking the merch,

The fans are just filing back in,

Wiping the wet aluminum before they sit.

But the flowers seem unaffected,

Right back to work,

"Hot dogs! Get your hotdogs, right here!"

-jenn