To trust in what I do not

understand –

the way flowers follow

with imperceptible grace

the sequence of the day,

to bend at nightfall

like wheat in the wind

or to let go,

like seeds anticipating Spring

to be still with the stillness

of my body breathing

is to be, perhaps,

like prayer


and vital in the air.

by Michael S. GlaserPoet Laureate of Maryland, 2004-2009

4 thoughts on “Seeds

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