A new embroidery of flowers, canary color,
dots the grass already dotty
with aster-white and clover.
I warn, “They won’t last, out of water.”
The children pick some anyway.
In or out of water
children don’t last either.
I watch them as they pick.
Still free of what’s next
and what was yesterday
they pick today.
From Springing: New and Selected Poems by Marie Ponsot, copyright © 2002 by Marie Ponsot.
1 comment:
I am really missing the days of blogging regularity but I love finding something new on your blog when I'm not expecting it. This is a great poem.
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