This poem was written in Manhattan Beach, California and published in New Voices in the Wind by a small press in Appalachia, Virginia in 1969, long before I ever saw the Blue Ridge.
Psalm
Little flower, stay.
With all your pretty petals
keep me company.
The skies darken
and the rivers sigh with dying fish,
the highways crack beneath their burden;
there is the moaning of hunger
and the cry of wounds, irreparable and many.
We are taxed and warred upon
and robbed.
Into the night, little flower, stay
with your gentle perfume
to remind me of things to come.
....... and of better times, past. a good reminder of what we're doing to our environment, and how it can be. thanks, c will
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