won’t save me
even though daisies grow
on a hill pillow-soft, their feet
embraced by nutritious earth,
even though they’re bathed
in showers of sunlight,
even though their petals
reach out to me in silken exclamation points,
even though they’re sweetly pliant
as I bend and weave them together
into a long line of hugs.
Daisy chains won’t save me
but still I place the hug chain around my neck,
the goodness of earth and sun against my skin,
a feathery amulet against the world.
Photo via Pixabay