Meadow Poem


How grass
Grows with such persistence and
Uncaring for time,
Leaves the sky hovering in anticipation

—Shall you ever give in?
How many ways are you willing to die?



I see you there,
Silver arnica,
Heartleaf, sticky, seep-spring of
Yellow mouth, saffron divine.

Aster, watch your fingers.
Toadflax, are you reaching?
Dogbane and nettle and rabbit-foot clover;
This cradle of color leaps as it sways,
And I am in awe of the way it was made.



If I take this sprig of yarrow,
Am I stealing from the earth?
Am I a thief, making off with its well earned majesty;
What end am I invoking
For a bit of beauty?



I want to love you mountain,
But I’m drawn in by her scent.

She seizes me by my breast and leads me,
A doe from the dark,
And wakes me with a cloud
Rolling over her;
The air tips its pitcher and pours life.

Like a song.


Photos copyrighted and courtesy of (in order)
-Pete Astles
-Mahmud Hassan

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