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by Craig Arnold

Windflower     wildflower     the grass wears you in its hair
tatter of leaf and purple star of petal
How do you keep your balance in the dirt     you are so frail
grubbed up in the gardener’s palm you wilt
thing of an hour     but still the fields fill with your sisters
shivering with the wind in their thin skirts
Maybe you sprang from a god’s blood or a murdered lover
But I will say that the pale maiden spilled you
out of her lap     when she turned her face from the sun’s warmth
and chose the shadows     but buried still you remember
these seasons of gray rain     this world blurred by tears
are not forever      soon it will all be over
Soon she will come back        scattering flowers before her
Soon you will raise your head from the grass to praise her
Oh let the sky break and the bud open      oh let her bring
all things to peace     to the cold blue peace of spring