Seeds

I am the flower

Picked fresh on a summer’s morn

Drops of dew glisten

You are the ripe fruit

Harvested ‘neath autumn’s moon

Full-bodied and crisp

We are the slim seeds

Laid to rest with promises

Of life beyond soil

I was listening to tales of Woodstock on the radio this morning while running errands around Tallahassee. This summer marks the 50th anniversary of the famed music festival. I’d tell you I was there, but that would be a lie. I was only 12, and my taste in music was pretty bland.

At any rate my poem was inspired by Joni Mitchell (who wasn’t at Woodstock either) and her song, “We Are Stardust.”

https://youtu.be/cRjQCvfcXn0

Peace, people.