FLOWER CHILDREN

They spring,
A raucous raging field of bloom;
Colors in the brilliant sun;
Wild.

Attacked and covered
All the cold, hard metal
Of Establishment;
And there open the cruel fortress,
Withered, dried,
Reformed.

And yet, there sometimes leaks
Though crevices in hollow casing
Hints of green, murmurings of the secret
Of their infiltration.

And one day,
The shining coldness
Will be flung by strength of wine,
And blossoms will break forth in glory,
Warning all the heartless world.

Peace, her brothers and sisters.