by Kathleen Kirk
Wild columbine roots even in sharp soil,
holding many tiny seeds in slim green
pods that gnarl, go dry and brown, and spill,
rampant, on rock, earth, or sand.
Always, five petals, doves in a circle,
a soft, inaudible cooing.
Always, red or salmon-pink wings
enclose a pale yellow evidence of what’s to come.
Wild columbine, resilient in the rain,
and after the rain.
Finding a way to live in the abandoned world.
Copyright © 2014 by Kathleen Kirk.