i feel in love with nature today
again, the wild
i became.
at peace, least they fall
out of love
collapsed as an apis colony
exposed to the systemic of our society:
idiosyncrasy.
years; on years and years,
leave branded, davy jones
on bees and native flowers
all lumber woodlands, skins alike
(soured)
empty through the fields.
where has the clover gone?
1 month
white heads bob between green
equal; with scarlet flags
1 year
knowing streaks burn on the horizon--
and in my heart
2 years
foam, foam, foam
beautiful in museum small-talk, but
where has the red clover gone?
bobbed flower heads
are reborn in the flames, consumed
empty boxes
inconsequential
dipped in regret
where did we leave them behind?
when the birds migrate for the last of winter and trees
bear no fruit
(no seeds no
generations)
watch it wither
and spin lore to the sickly children;
the inconsequential.
YOU ARE READING
NEW HEARTS & COLD SEAS
Poetrywhen they seek you out because they know they can, because they know they can get away with it - anonymity is your friend.
