Wildflowers

She sang and cast the coal black poppy seeds
on sterile soil where nothing prime had grown.
She risked the spring on ground where only weeds
had pushed their roots through cracks in barren stone.
A sudden gust cut through the autumn air;
the frisking wind brought scent of cooling rain.
It whispered in her ear, then touched her hair
and turned her windward like the weathervane.
She felt his lightning lift her loneliness
and heard his distant thunder touch her ear.
The rain, at last, supplied a light caress.
A thousand miles—and yet he seemed so near.
Her wildflower seeds would tame her rocky slope,
break faith with fate and seed the days with hope.