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Description
an ancient woman, who has lived all seasons,
wanders the earth gathering camomile.

each flower in her apron is a star,
her apron is the sky. when she reaches the house,

she strews them to dry like shells on a beach -
to bring good luck, to whisper the future.

(...)but next season, when the future arrived,
it silenced the whispers. she was buried with her ancestors.

and yet as if by chance, as if by magic, as if by a miracle
the camomile grows each season behind the house.

many seeds have flown. these seeds remain.

with a special dedication to Luke

to whisper some bright future for you and then again and again
i know it's nothing like your badass morbid art,
but i thought the petals match your complexion well

Description
an ancient woman, who has lived all seasons,
wanders the earth gathering camomile.

each flower in her apron is a star,
her apron is the sky. when she reaches the house,

she strews them to dry like shells on a beach -
to bring good luck, to whisper the future.

(...)but next season, when the future arrived,
it silenced the whispers. she was buried with her ancestors.

and yet as if by chance, as if by magic, as if by a miracle
the camomile grows each season behind the house.

many seeds have flown. these seeds remain.

with a special dedication to Luke

to whisper some bright future for you and then again and again
i know it's nothing like your badass morbid art,
but i thought the petals match your complexion well