Wild Seeds

I never know what flowers will bloom from them each season...

read or listen:

My children are wild seeds,
not held carefully in hand and planted lightly
but scattered from the wind
while all the responsible people
were looking elsewhere.

They landed themselves in gritty soil
with their joy pushing roots in deep.
We were there to tend them,
wonder at them
feed them the love we had.

When their Mother died
they didn’t stop growing,
they didn’t wilt,
they turned and stretched in new directions.

When storms or drought
shook them
they grew together,
closer to me
and then again
out into the world.

I never know what flowers will bloom from them each season,
I’m not sure I know what they will look like
when they’re fully grown,
just that I will be filled again with wonder
at the sight of them
at the gift of them
as they seed the world with possibilities
only wild flowers can bring.