Once A Year

Once a year in the early spring I scatter some reclaimed seeds from a section of yard where the wild flowers grow -- a reserved place, there left unattended how they bloom, all on their own where the wild flowers bloom, a welcome to early bees and butterflies the old black cat seems to like them as well a nestled, deadly shadow, all comfy in a lap of blazing, garnished nature stroked by the southerly tempering breeze God! he has such allergies, the poor little beast's, watery eyes... yet, every year while I scatter he seems to dream faithfully Lucifer, scourge of mice! for a budding' moment, exculpated! as a wand, my magician' hand glides over the the future materialized bed seeding memories long gone but not forgotten when I was also omnipotent demurely purring one of the wild flowers heedless of seasons and the sentence of time --