For The Sunday Whirl: Wordle #298
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
born, radiates rings, snapped, rain, cave,
limb, spirits, thin, origins, stories, ash
For Sunday’s Whirligig: Wordle #110
http://sundayswhirligig.blogspot.com/
tiny, old, flare, gaze, month, clover,
thick, milkweed, drifts, melt, parch, perishes
For Poets United: Poetry Pantry #352
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
Milkweed Ancestors
Tiny milkweed seeds flare
thin limbs snapped up by wind
to drift in ever widening rings,
like spirits born in ancient cave
parched, seeking to hear again
oldest stories of their origins.
After the rain, he walks through
field thick with clover radiating
freshness, his gaze inward, thinking
how swiftly it all melts away, perishes
like milkweed he saw just months ago.
Like his ancestors, now no more
than ash, black soot on walls of
ancient cave.
Elizabeth Crawford 5/7/2017
Notes: I was very unsure when I first saw the two lists. Slept on it. The first stanza came easily and reminded me of a place I used to go called Natural Bridge State Park, located in Southwestern Wisconsin. The image is one of many that can be found on the Park’s site. There’s a hike through an open meadow, then a curving wooded path up to the sandstone bridge. Just under the natural structure is a cave marked with black soot, believed to be left by Paleolithic Indians, thousands of years ago. For me, it was always sacred ground, most often overflown by bald eagles that I thought of as Guardians of the Gate.
Soul's Music 
The spirit of the land, nicely done.
LikeLike
Beautiful poem..love this line especially: seeking to hear again
oldest stories of their origins.. wow!
LikeLike
Sleeping on it certainly delivered some magic 🙂
LikeLike
Much yearning and seeing here. Much wisdom reading our history in the world.
LikeLike
I really must applaud your use of both sets of words to complete such a compehensive piece of writing seamlessly done.
LikeLike
This is such a captivating write!❤️
LikeLike
Beautiful, with a mythic quality.
LikeLike
How I love that beautiful Photo! Love your Title! My heart quickens at the ancient spirits, the ancestors in the cave. It must be wonderful to be there in person. We have a beach cave here. When I stood in it, I felt bad energy. Turns out, thousands of years ago, there was bloodshed in there by warring tribes.
LikeLike
It’s the melting away and the perishing that disturbs me about this life, events which your poem does not flinch from.
LikeLike
This is a wonderful piece tying back to the memories of soil (for me).
LikeLike
Luv the spell of the Seasons in your poem, over and over again, leaving their mark long after generations have left. Like good poetry
Have a nice Sunday
Much love…
LikeLike
Very interesting and enjoyable read. I liked the sonnet structure.
LikeLike
This is lovely Elizabeth. Made me feel those ancestral spirits. I like your postscript too. I must try sleeping after reading prompts. It certainly works for you.
LikeLike
A lovely read. Ahhh, the milkweed is quite adept at replenishing messengers to hear the oldest stories!
LikeLike
Great piece and photo.
LikeLike
Your line break before the last two lines is perfectly placed, Elizabeth. Sounds like a mystical,
magical place.
LikeLike
I love this poem and your explanation, made me want to go there!
LikeLike
thinking how swiftly it all melts away, perishes
like milkweed he saw just months ago.
Like his ancestors, now no more
It was a fleeting moment and was all gone. The soots or drawings in caves may have a lot to do with the desire to preserve the experiences!
Hank
LikeLike