Image: Dana: Foot | (CC BY 2.0)


(For Parents)
Blame the passion 
that shook
the loins
of the sire, the ague 
and ache
whipping the leaf 
to tailspin
to compost
 — blame the wind,
not the plant:
the purposeful squiggle 
of life, latching on 
rather than
the throes of loss,
of innocence
 — the desire
to live,
not give —

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