TWO VOICES IN A MEADOW

A Milkweed

Anonymous as cherubs

Over the crib of God,

White seeds are floating

Out of my burst pod.

What power had I

Before I learned to yield?

Shatter me, great wind:

I shall possess the field

A Stone

As casual as cow-dung

Under the crib of God,

I lie where chance would have me,

Up to the ears in sod.

Why should I move? To move

Befits a light desire.

The sill of heaven would founder,

Did such as I aspire.