Milkweed


The primary mistake has been

Denying the need of a simpleton

Throwing chaf to blind the fool

Who should have been the rule

‘Cause it’s brighter there with him

Not dark or cloudy

He lays, his feet up in the field

Just him- not two, not many

Looks into blades of grass

Slender in new sheathing

And allows the slow

Measure of his own breathing

It would have been better

I think now of him

To weather loss

With less within

Better to lay and look

At the pattern of a leaf

As if from a book

Than look into grief

Leave him now then

If you can leave him alone

For it’s too late to stay

To make sure he gets home

The sun now deepens its color

Is a clear red orb

The latex drips from the milkweed

The morning haze fills

The basin and finds him gone

The sun scrubs it into day

Though it’s done nothing wrong

Those going there later

Tell of the stark white

Milkweeds thumbed open husk

And the monarch stepping 

There in its joy

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