Launch Pod

By S M Chen, posted 10-13-2016

Under an azure, cloud-streaked sky,

Illumined by the sun,

Rooted in the fertile earth

It stands, the only one.

—-

All the others have gone to seed.

Soon it itself will die.

But one last task remains for it;

Its kind must multiply.

—-

So to the wind it casts its seeds,

Each with its parachute,

To take it where the breeze will blow

And there begin to root.

—-

The departing seeds speak to me

Of what all things must face.

All are born and all must die, for

All there’s a time and place.

—-

But in the meantime, I can feel

The ecstasy of sight.

For what nature has provided

Can make for our delight.

—-

To the flying seeds I say, “May

You find a place that’s soft,

And may you be laid gently by

That which bore you aloft.”

—-

To the plant which cast its seeds, I

Say, ‘Now your work is done.

You can join your fellow plants;

Of tasks left there is none.’

—-

I thank the sun, I thank the sky.

I’m grateful to be there.

But most of all I thank the One

Who gave this silent prayer.

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S M Chen lives and writes in California.