Withered, weary
leaves begin melting
into autumn's embrace;
shoulders drooped,
heavy head now stooped,
she releases her petals,
they descend ~ floating
above an icy morning mist.
Her seeds extricate themselves
from their cloister.
Her crumpled and golden chalice,
now fully emptied.
Oh, poverty, what bliss!
photo: Christine Valter Paintner
poetry: Roxanne Galpin
1 comments:
nice poem. funny too as i put sunflower seeds into the ground this past week only to have a monsoon come and flood the beds. i will start again next week. thanks so much for your prayers on Trout. we will know more on friday. love to you
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