New Poetry: A Different Seed
Photo by Texas Parks & Wildlife
So … I’m knee-deep in poetry right now, still. And I feel almost guilty. I have so many people waiting on my next novel, but I’ve set it aside (again). I’m drawn to poetry and I’m gonna ride this pony til she stops.
Here’s one of my latest that I worked on in a recent Lighthouse Writers workshop. I can’t seem to get the line spacing right on this blog, but it’s close.
Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!
A Different Seed
I was born in fields of bluebonnets,
ink-well-sapphire dense petals spiked in sun-blind white
short-lived in the Texas spring —
each dew-soaked stem
flattened just yesterday
by the sharp nose of the coyote
the hoof-step of the Hereford
hiding the hiss and slither of the rattler —
always bouncing back
seemingly singular,
good for early-morning picking
before the heat sets in.
Yet by high noon
it’s never easy
to detach a wilted loner
from the rest held together by a nest of roots
entrenched in the holy dirt
of Saint Sam Houston
el malvado Santa Anna
battle-blood of the Alamo
sweet bread of the German siedler
rusted barbed-wire of fences
oily cotton boll of the farmer
weather-worn skull of a fire-ant-stricken calf
my grandfather would’ve tried to save.
And even though Lady Bird’s highways are lined with them —
musky-sweet flowers,
family ties,
good intentions —
not every seed will grow
where planted.
Is it easily spread on the wind?
Can it tolerate full sun?
And what happens
when
the parched and crisp soil
becomes suddenly drenched,
clay-like —
unable to breathe?
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