[i]How sad the trees[/i]
[i]How sad the flowers[/i]
[i]They cannot see their own beauty[/i]
[i]—Raymond Smullyan[/i]

But so little of their beauty is meant for us to see,
The flowers dazzle in with designs in ultraviolet,
Cast meaning to the wind, utter sonnets in perfume,
And even tickle quiet air with electrical potential,
All done to coax the butterflies and bees
(Which have their silent codes, instructive dance in darkened hives 
To point each other to the finest blooms.)
Below the earth, deep roots touch, trade nutrients,
And fungi form their networks to report on forest news.
Understated? Rather, just stated enough.