There is a field in the foothills
Where wildflowers thrive
Spilling their pearls of pollen
And petals far and wide
Where bumble bee and butterfly
Trade bloom for heavy bloom
And whence the heady scent comes forth
Beneath the heat of noon.
But land of sullen beauty
You now have fallen prey
To the arsonist’s lethal spark
And soon you spiral away
Churning and billowing black
You make the cottontails crazed
Meadow who once sparkled at dawn
You have seen such dark days.
And yet each time you raise your brow
Your battered, shimmering crown
Yes, from the ash you arise again
So quiet but quite proud
With your myriad mustard flowers
A mantle shining bright
From here to the edge of forever
A shield of gentle light.
-By Teddy Kitchen