I wonder if the white star

I wonder if the white star magnolia ever asks itself if it is right-sized, or if its flower, the one with delicate petal-like tepals, is the correct shade of alabaster white. I wonder if it asks itself if it has enough flowers blooming on its tree or if its fragrance is the right type of sweet or musky.

I wonder if the osprey dive bombs into the cove, catches a fish, then thinks, as he bats his enormous wings onto the beach, “That thing is too small, you idiot.”

I wonder if the vulture with a wounded wing berates itself for being clumsy and for circling the dead deer too low.

What is it with us, humans, that we are constantly barraging ourselves in negativity?

What good does it bring us?

Standing on the sidewalk, beside the white star magnolia, I stare at its beauty, at this Japanese tree potted at the edge of a parking lot right here in Annapolis, Maryland, and I wonder if I, too, were to just exist and stop myself from questioning my enoughness, if I, too, were to find resilience in a small patch of soil, then perhaps, perhaps, my petals would also peacefully bloom.

And isn’t that all we want in this life?

To bloom.