It begins in the back 
garden. ripping up weeds
against resistance
like being 8 years old again,
fighting and pulling
at someone's hair. getting tired 
and going at them 
with a rake instead,
and then a spade
to break the final
roots. grabbing up handfuls
and throwing them at the wall,
like sneezing
holding playing cards.

In the kitchen 
I take the paper 
and tear it. pour out seeds;
raw wildflower. planting wilderness;
and I'm aware of the irony, 
but I don't need
anything
which takes making an effort. just something
to toss out and forget about
until it sprouts 
in all color. they look tiny in my hand,
and delicious, just like the tops
of bagels, red and brown and biting hard. on impulse
I crush some
in my coffee 
and brew a cup - pour 
and carry the rest out
to throw around
and be eaten by sparrows. the coffee
tastes like coffee 
and nothing much
like wildflowers. I sit by the door
touching the sun
and watch the birds
go crazy.