Wild Geraniums

Chill of May
sweeps through soft seas

of wild geraniums
here in deep woods,

their lavender-pink heads
moving slightly

in waves of thick green,
a scene soon to disappear

as seasons move
to seasons,

reminder of endings
and beginnings.

This poem is my tribute to a family member, age 22, and all the others who fell victim to the pain-killer Oxycontin. They were productive citizens hoping to contribute to society and were fooled by a medical treatment.

Morton Arboretum, May 19, 2016

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