Its feathery leaves hang loosely about the stiff stem like baggy trousers
   While fine hairs snake away from the center
   Animals delight in rubbing their faces into the white splendor
   Scattering its seeds to the wind to the meandering roads and to the tear-stained soil

    It is a sun-catcher…yet still relishes the company of Shade
    A splash of red decorates the center while rice-like petals fan out
    When it flowers pink and purple
    The sweet air hums

    August: The sky suddenly turns charcoal gray
    In its carnal rage, the storm spits out golden lightning bolts as it swallows the sky whole
    Broken branches are everywhere as trees are lit upon their funeral pyres

     But the Queen Anne's lace sits as regally as ever on that hilltop
     Basking in the golden waters, amusing itself with the flood
     Soon the storm thuds away, leaving the land to recover
     By daylight the animals are chirping, chasing, drinking, and dreaming again

     The whiteness shines like a patch of fresh snow in the field
     As the wind ruffles its white head, it curls within itself
     Although it's only a cluster of stars, it's also a sprinkle of hope among the green
       

      Although it's dry this year, it refuses to bow down
      Standing tall and proud in the wild, it awaits its destiny