Friday, June 28, 2013

St. John's Wort

Winging it
he takes the hill
in his usual bounds
but with his hands
behind his back
his face as open
as the dusky sky
hesitates he does
then says
"flowers"
the wild kind
so humble yet
so powerful
defying years of
thickening scars
I knew their names
once


and I know his

(Written from several sources of inspiration, catalyzed by this lovely site.)