She came in the frenzy of early spring
In pelting rain from frozen white crystal;
Melting the fury of winter’s last storm
Into puddles of mud and fertile soil.
Innocently barren of the gift to bring,
Settles’ her seduction in silent committal;
Melodic and mysteriously her children were born
From her lover in summer, as she slowly recoils.
But, her children’s children, seeds in spring,
Are cradled in the weeds and flowers and in tall thistle.
Parents cut and picked, sit on a table adorned
In abundance and beauty of a passing seasons’ toil.