Milkweed Seduction

When my heart searches fields, I am forever drawn,
To clusters of milkweeds, curious and strong.

Pointy pods are the nightcaps atop hidden trolls,
Bursting with the secrets of dreams untold.

Wandering alabaster floss on the breeze,
Comas lifting dark seeds in a silken release.

Catch them, oh catch them children squealed long ago,
To billow into vests holding soldiers afloat.

Floating and swirling across untamed meadows,
Wisping wings of goldfinches weaving their cradles.

In autumn even the sparest of pods curl exquisite,
Twisted sculptures writhing in the amber sunset.

With such art and design and shape-shifting ardor,
The milkweed ambushes my golden hour!

Spring calls the Monarchs to glide through migration,
Seduced by honey nectar and host-plant gestation.

Poison sap imbues Majesty with a milky defense,
Ascending to reclaim its endangered vibrance.

Umbels amid wings amid sustenance unencumbered,
Their cadence plays a symphony of effortless wonder.

Of milkweeds and monarchs and transcendent connections,
How can we not doubt our own imperfections?

By Diana Lasseter Drake