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Initially published in Green Blotter

What thin seed

plucked from its yielding stem

like the gaseous stars balanced

precariously above

Earth’s head glimmers

in the slick, darkened grass,

flinching under brays and brackish peals

and muddy soles –

clasped in Crow’s dark beak

to perfume the gale?

To be trodden upon, to wither, to flutter,

to sail past choked trees and ashen sediment,

to witness Sun’s ephemeral warmth,

to draw its last untainted breath –

Let the raccoons scour, the blue-jays shroud,

the chipmunks nick at chestnuts,

discarded golden thorns bellowing their existence.

And yours, little spore,

yours lies in your germination,

hastened by the plump, childish fingers

who pluck out your petals, your perfume, your ornaments –

those things of beauty.

Ayesha Asad is a writer and college freshman with an eclectic variety of interests that include painting, reading, and singing. She lives in Texas, writes for her college newspaper, and hosts a radio news show. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Blue Marble Review, TeenInk, and Skipping Stones magazine.

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