We are the Wildflowers

A season for everything -

That's what they say...

I have watched you shrivel and bloom.

And gathered the seeds close,

Like pearls and gold.

Mud cannot disguise you -

I know your hardy soul like my own.

We are the wildflowers -

The crag clinging flora that holds fast.

Ungathered, uncultivated,

Without a tending hand and yet...

What harvests we have had.

A wealth of little deaths beneath the ice and frost.

A river of lives scattered across the plains,

And I pick the seeds from the cracks.

Carry them in my worn thin pockets to the inevitable end.

Untended, perhaps,

But not unloved, my friend.