Wind racing over the waters
Careening around canyon corners
Ice cold waves leap with delight
...Idiot kayaker, not so much
High desert mountains
Try on a flimsy spring dress of sheer green
Teasing again
Blooming flowers witness
The grass being whipped
Trembles in the shredding wind
Curious clouds
Sniff alien contrails
As they scurry by
I don't think flowers
Often experience existential dread
But you never know
Before the gale
Flickering like bright yellow
Daylight fireflies
In a symphony of windblown grass
There's no telling which baton
Belongs to the conductor
There's those flowers again
Acting all happy
And shit
Shy plants looking back and away
All the time nodding consent to nothing in particular
Surveying the dead and wounded
At the end of the grass battle
In memory of those
Who dared to show their faces to the sun
Hey flowers!
Suck it!
"the sun is a miasma of incandescent plasma"
- T.M.B.G
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