Monday, May 4, 2020

The blind man gardens (another poem for the pandemic)


The blind man gardens

My father said, I believe
in trees

wildflowers blooming
in the shadow of the falling
fence

And these little yellow
blossoms
five tiny petals

opening each tender stem
A twiggy thing
green leafed

See

How many of them now
Count them for me

He said, Son,
they are my beloved
Mow around them as you go

Scentless prairie flowers
the ash of what
once blazed

Imagine the world
without us

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