through mudflats and iron foot,
the eulogy deep and dried passion fruit,
the salt of columbine, a porcelain of words
the yellow mollies of spring,
The storm will pass. The forest will replenish.
Hike with me five years from now. Share
my bounty anytime. The eulogy premature,
prayer alive in flower and grass, blossom
and honey bee, a strength in who we really are.