Yesterday’s Seeds

Today I arose bent,

down;

nearly prostrate, dark, brown.

Now brooding, but forbearing,

I stand

and from this patch,

look back,

pleasantly aghast at the mad abstract,

of passions in our past,

warm, loving, even mundane doings,

romance without reason,

happiness traded in happenstance between us.

Not completely,

but still less like deliberate acts,

than blindly sired scions,

innocently planted pods whose spawn,

cover all manner of harm.

Strong,

these sweet, strife strengthened weeds,

what no longer seem to be antique dreams,

more in this trying time akin to fragrant, floral vines

filling the pain trawled troughs of this,

our soiled life.

Years past, I now count planted,

deeply rooted, good and bad,

wholly grafted,

reminiscence stowed,

time begotten pips bursting forth as hope,

pulse that to thin ribs clings, climbing cliffs,

even over oddly deep folds of composted rows,

roughly hoed.

All of these, our good and fertile deeds,

glowing florets, now fully grown,

how they sprout like smatters of amber lanterns,

against a palette black as coal.

Oh, but if only I had known,

the countless seeds I would have sown.