Accident of birth

 
A little twist of fate,

a wind blown seed

borne on a transient

zephyr breeze.

Fair daffodil or dandelion

it matters not,

for both bear gifts

that glitter at my naked feet.

Reviews

[Jimmy Yetts]

From a high enough vantage point and without the incalculable limitations of human physical sight,
there are, probably, no accidents.
A Very pretty piece, Beccy!

[gram linski]

the wind blown seed, origin unknown, a gift of life, no need for a name, enjoyed the sparseness of this, Beccy, cool wee poem

[lakinbob]

Been reading your poetry for the last hour or so. Gonna stop now, it's making me feel inadequate. :)

Seriously though, this is so very good.

[emipoemi]

I have no words....my voice is in my awe!! Well done!

[Neville]

A most beautiful poem, perfectly penned....

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I actually love both, and your words embrace them with beautiful care. Beautifully writ!

[Eilis]

Your title is intriguing. It makes the poem take on a different slant than the body of the poem on its own.

I suppose in our human conceptions, what ends up in our sphere seems accidental or serendipital, but the knowingness of nature is astounding.

I’ve been studying herbalism since I was in my late teens. The things I learned early on about (what we classify as) weeds have lent me a healthy respect for the wisdom of nature. So, your examples here were ideal in my eyes. The daffodil is beautiful and invited, celebrated in poetry and so on, but it’s poisonous. Apt considering the Narcissus myth that lends it its second name.

The dandelion is a hated weed where I live. Pesticides prescribed for its ruination line the shelves of home improvement stores. Yet it is a useful, healing, nourishing plant. Children recognize its virtues and treasure it, but in the world of perfected appearances, it is a blot on the adult mind. I love dandelions.

So, I look back to your title and think how this can apply to our lives. I can think of many ways. We often don’t see things for what they actually are. Your short verse, in the end, makes me think of holy writ. The sacredness of creation. The imploring to love.

The idea can go either way and serve us well. To take time to better understand anything or anyone offers context and perspective. Nothing creates itself. Birth is imposed upon every living thing. Perhaps it is our duty to seek out the good in each and every where we can.

Love the depth of this idea, Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and as allegory....most of the accidental births of humans end up with us having others who have such purpose in our lives.....and are such gifts to us....
i love the "transient zephyr breeze"

j.

[Terpsichore]

There are times when I feel a little guilty about the fortunate circumstances of my birth; but I comfort myself with the thought that a change to misfortune, would be of no benefit to those whose circumstances are already less than mine. Does that make me selfish? I hope not.

A short poem for you, but so very deep in meaning.

T

[Wild Rose]

Gifts of seeds for food to our garden birds
Seeds to provide new flowers next spring