Thinning Weeds

We fell apart like uncooked rice,
a messy, little nest of mice
that scattered grain like wind-blown chaff.
What once was sad now makes me laugh

when sifted by ensuing years.
To think I sowed one thousand tears
and one back then. I'm slightly glad
we didn't stick; it's not so bad

to have some extra room to grow.
Too bad, these things we did not know,
but do know now, unsprouted seeds,
when cultured poorly, produce weeds.


Karen Tellefsen
kat2@mindspring.com

Next poem, Oubliette .

Return to my Home Page.