Oh! The Earth bursts out between these weeds
Feeds the trees, please return these seeds as I left them:
With potential. Holy holy incredible the decibel of husk musk matter
We are a splatter of star latter, what-ever with weather, we sometimes
Grow… didn’t you know…
I thought is so, to sew the seeds of my father’s weeds and wait
By the mounds with resounding sunshine. With enough love
We will grow.
And when we grow the soil knows…
To look for seeds.
Poem 52 Edited – Poem 52 Revised