Dispersal Poem by Dale Harvey

Dispersal



Like dandelions, at any time of the clock,
we huff and puff our seeds into the world,
believing they will survive, if not thrive,
no matter how poor the soil they land on.
Are we flowers of a king of cultivation
or the weeds in Gaia’s garden?

Dale Harvey
Friday, October 4, 2013
poem poems Flowers
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