A Poem by Jon Silvestri

Chain

As a child
I made chains of
Small flowers 
Growing in forgotten
Places by the roadside.

Blossom by blossom,
I strung them amongst
Each other 
Until they grew to 
An arm's length 
Or more

And I wrapped
Them delightedly around
My waist and chest,

Swooping them in
A bright crown 
Branching my dark hair
And enshrouding
My mind with
Their glory.

The slight puff
Of wind that 
Ripples still waters 

Is no different,
For each puff whispers
A breeze, presages
A gale, and slides

The stillness of the deep
Forward in an
Unbroken chain

Across thousands 
Of miles, growing
With each exhale

Until it crashes 
In glory and exuberant
Delight hard against
Your shore