If one day I was so inclined
To leave a trail of me behind
Of tiny seeds to nurture so
and fragments of myself to grow.
Would a path of me evolve
In peppered flowers to dissolve?
Sprinkled petals speckles delight,
A seeded journey ablaze with light.
Twisting, winding, dipping and rising
Would my seeds become the horizon
Would Monica joan stand guard,
Protecting weeds near and far.
Tread bare dirt and dying land
Sahara tears in the devil’s hand.
Yet, between the dock leaves
nestling at the base of trees,
Perhaps would lay a daisy
Seen on summer days so hazy.
A gentle constellation of my presence,
Gaia kissed by my loving essence.
A sinful trance of naked song
Weeds growing where flowers belong.
Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words