Birdfood
the seed caste onto the stone, and
in seed it is on it's own
never to stretch root, or
finding the thinnest stress to
break through
to
pregnant ground and
soda
the seed caste onto the stone
though no shape will it ever go
oblong roll along a stony
song
until it is split sent into the high-
flyed sky
and sent again
to descend
from the
gods
Copyright © Michael Miers | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment