What comes of words planted
from a poor harvest
but strong seed to root between

the cracks of rocks gathering
every bit of rain to fruit
again and again. Listen

to the defiant sound they make:
a crop of clashing cymbals
before they die and blow away

to a better place.
An iffy eternity at best,
but let them go, anyway.


4 responses to “LET THEM GO

  1. Peter Notehelfer

    Lamentation for the Land . . .


  2. I fear it will be repeated again this year. Let the flora go, but let the words live forever.


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