Phoebe Martone

Self Sown 

 

Bright yellow flowers in my garden,

I have no idea what you are.

Did you come from a mixture?

Towering flutes,

Spreading yourself out above the others.

Were you chosen for the packet?

Or did you insinuate yourself

Into a society of seeds,

Unplanned, but sure that you belong

Among the subtler blooms.

I did not choose you, and there's the surprise,

the mystery of things beyond control.

You remind me of how I make a plan

and it goes awry, but only in my mind.

 

Phoebe Martone 7/31/2021