Samridhi Girdhar/The Baron

Fate, divine, takes flight 

The pappus dances on the air 

Married to the idea of last rites 

Floating to settle among the nowhere 

Softly landing on rich soil 

The roots begin to grow 

Though threats loom, there is no recoil 

Prepared to live a life gentle and slow 

The stem stretches to reach grass 

The florets are ready to bloom 

Soon they will be here en masse 

Green speckled in gold to rid gloom