fledgist | no ordinary garden

the heart is a red flower in driest season

it tells its truths though all around is bare

the thorns announce so clearly to beware

all honest speech turns at the last to treason

we learn this early and the point is clear

the heart is a red flower in driest season

no one obeys the orders of plain reason

but wants to reach far past where wolves would dare

to outer realms of most transparent air

the heart is a red flower in driest season