There’s always such thing as a free petal

My son will offer you 
a magnolia petal in exchange
for nothing. He understands
the gift trade: offers without
expectation, the way those
overhanging trees prepare
the sidewalk with garnish,
purple and white ground 
down to an unintended
slip. He grips two petals,
holding one for the next
possible person, smiling
for no reason, laughing
and running and running
and entertaining every 
ounce of my fears,
turning each bitter
taste into doubly
grasping joy.