Grandmother Marigolds

Scatter the grandmother marigold seed
we brought down from North Dakota
over my bones, the boxed-up leftovers
of my exclusive earthly engagement.
Bring my grandchild to see them bloom
in this, the only world we'll ever know.


Crafty Green Poet said...

excellent, there's so much in this short poem

janetleigh said...

Yes, there's a lot to this short poem that stirs up thoughts, but I'll just leave a few here. I lived in Fargo, ND for a short while before moving to Davenport, which is in Bumfark Eygpt, ND ;> My dumb Dad decided to make the trip there - from Fargo - during a snowstorm - no, you read that right, and we ended up in someone's corn field because he didn't want to stop for directions. Good thing I was too young to deck him (and raised right). It was one of the scariest times driving with my Dad. Which is saying a lot since my Dad drank so I have lots of "driving" stories under my belt. I plant marigolds every year in my garden. All different types because they remind me of a hillside of baby suns lying low to the ground before taking off skyward. Dumb, I know. The other thing is I resonate with the word "grandmother". Thanks for sharing this..:)