Oh, I do
Hope
May The Flowers read my thousand thoughts
My apologies for the thistle, I allowed to crowd
Forgive me for the invasive vines, that strangled your sunlight away

As I stayed grieving lost ground

There, at blooms edge, sat I

Dreams began to die

But for a mid-morning,
A cool sunlit day, then, did I decide
To pause and prosecute, with an, “anchors aweigh,” a finally-freed echinacea
With my accomplished call, did the butterfly bush become tall

“No more…by the grace of God, no more”