Groundswell

Groundswell

A fleet of winter flowers
Sails out over the brown ocean

To war. None will come back
But their song is light.

*

When a thing grows where we think
it shouldn’t, we have misunderstood

Its nature, or the environment
It grew in, or both.

*

Tell me about the mountain stream,
Cloud chasing cloud like a fleet

Of winter flowers. A song as light
As rain has reached our roots.

5 thoughts on “Groundswell

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s