Queen Anne's Lace

Queen Anne's Lace, brittled brown donned in snow instead of a crown off the side of the tar, where the deer still roam bent toward the wind on their freeway home From their bird's eye view the cars blur air They bend in a bow with elegant flair Although they be broken, no speck of green They know their own legacy, royalty preen And once in a while, their subjects take note as I did on last Sunday while using their road As a passenger in one of the whooshing cars Fogging up windows, under their stars I noticed their caps and their grace and their strength I swallowed my voice and gave pause at length They've brushed by my legs in summer, bright green Jeweled earrings of bees, crowing lace between Royal Queen Anne's, brittled brown wears fitting white ice as a noble crown.