I begin life in flight
Adrift among the susurrus of the wind
Wherever I land
I reach deeper,
My lionstooth skirt spread around me.
My face lifts to the bright sun,
hidden when clouds hide its light.
I sleep, and open myself to a new day.
My many admirers kiss my upturned face.
One morning I will awaken,
pale and soft,
ready again to ride the wind.
I grow where I am planted.
I am not a hothouse beauty
Nor am I greatly adored
I know many secrets,
Of healing, of crickets,
And small children.
If it is “weed” you name me,
because I am not an orchid nor a lily
Not what you desire
I will never whisper them to you
You poison me,
cut me until bitter milk flows,
but you can never erase me.
My gold will always turn up where you don’t want it,
and I do not love you.