In the meadow
there were flowers,
varied as
clouds
and colours of the
bow,
sprinkled like
stars
when God went
aplanting,
there as
planted
when He went to sow.
In the meadow
there was wind,
blowing the thistle
and spreading its
seeds,
falling like
rain
when God made the
sea.
There as
planted
to grow like a weed.
In the meadow
there
were flowers
and when
the would whistle,
the only
seeds to rise
were the children
of the thistle.
Copyright © Jason
Horsler
1993
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