Carrying flowers in a vase in a high wind is similar to
Herding butterflies without a net.
All of the beautiful colors wind-surfing down and away,
Sweet release of all we held dear.

And that is the way it goes,
Rose petals flat-hatting down the interminable divides.
So hold on tight, raven breath,
Hold on to those stalks and those tiny puncture wounds,
_____________________________hold on to that small blood.

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