The hardly ripe strawberries shook when the wind blew
The seeds tried to tell me but their plan fell through
They dropped to the grass when their stem finally broke away from the branch
All at once, like a rosy avalanche
Rolling, rolling, rolling until they reached the daffodils
Kissing the green, colouring the hills
The wind pushed them along like an unwanted friend
Towards a yellow haze that seemed to have no end