By Zachary Furr

Do you see the wind?

Can you see it dancing in the fields?

It goes to and fro,

The wild flowers, 

Seem like children,

In its wake,

Children clambering for attention,

For they dance,

For they sense their mother,

For they are the wildflowers.

Do you see that one?

The uprooted sprout?

She dances not with her siblings,

Nay her mother,

Has blown her far away,

She has found a new field,

One that is surrounded by trees.

The large oaks that surrounded her,

Kept the wind away,

For they had seen,

That the wind,

Could not protect,

The wildflower,

The stood tall and proud,

They had seen,

And protected many flowers.

The wind may have been,

Her mother,

The trees were her parents,

For they nurtured,

And protected her,

From the storms of life,

Though her mother,

Occasionally stopped by for visits,

The Wildflower stayed with,

Those she loved.