Monday, May 23
Winds Of Chance
With seed heads blown by winds of chance,
bold dandelions spring up fast.
Though each has little time to last,
their parachuting fairies prance
supremely free, one must agree.
Upset, we glower, all askance.
Until their season's span has passed,
curse seed heads blown by winds of chance!
Small seed heads blown by winds of chance
think on their future days, not past,
and taunt us while we look aghast,
at thriving, golden, parent plants
so tall and proud, no living shroud,
but full of life's own joyful dance.
Unbounded vigour will outlast
us; seed heads blown by winds of chance.
Go and see Luke Prater at One Stop Poetry's Form Monday, if you want to know what is going on here!
N.B. I keep editing the original, for I started with the intention of ignoring meter, instead going for a syllabic count, but old habits die hard, and the rhythm is gradually winning with each new edit! I think this is a work in progress...