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.


2 comments:

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..:)