Like roving warriors, errant knights,

shriveled by hard-fought campaigns,

wandering widows or homeless orphans;

or like a people heaven-chosen

to trek their way across the world

to stake western claims for Asia;

but despite their unsought arrival,

their condemnation as weedy invaders,

and the perils of their journey

from damp, infertile, untilled soil,

these blossom-wielders, if they escape

pulling and pesticides, persist

undaunted, spreading their tiny, delicate

flags in a wide diaspora

of the virgin’s color, blue,

that hue rarest among flowers,

opening for only a day before

they droop and furl, leaving only

coarse green leaves animals eat,

having been beautiful only briefly,

for that moment of first sight,

when the viewer sights the flags

but has not recognized the bearer.

Copyright 2015

T. Allen Culpepper


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