PLANNED.
Cold rain-bubbled a sole
blade of swaying grass shivers
before me with fibrous perfection.
Thistledown light it quietly
writhes with buoyant head high
this strenuous stalk defying the wet.
Where are your veins and
what holds your filmy life-force
together in delicate tendril-threads ?
When gossamer frame first
shaped you to face planet gales
who capped your capillary filaments ?
You dancing seedhead were
I believe planned by intelligence
only Heavenly inventions possess.