October Poetry

Weeds

What's down in the earth

comes forth in cold water,

in mist at night, in muttering 

volcanoes that ring oceans

moving strangely at times. 

And in autumn all the fields

witness forth; power there

where roots find it, rooms

delved silently and left

for the dark to have. 

Up and down all highways

weed flags proclaim,

"Great is earth our home!"

as we slip our hand

into winter's again. 

Great is earth our home. 

Great is the sky. 

And great are weeds in the fields. 

We celebrate earth and air 

as we sing in the wind. 

William Stafford