Ripeness Is All
Through nights of slanting rain
Marchers are planting pain;
Gardeners in boots
Plant tender seeds of mines
Where the dimmed flashlight shines,
Nursing the wire-vines,
Hiding the roots.
Boys in green raincoats scamper
Where grass will soon be damper
When ripeness murders.
How fast the seeds grow high!
Blossoming, towards the sky
Pain's gaudy petals fly,
White with red borders.