Flying Birds in Watchful Colors

From this holy day on, all pollen blown
Shall strew broadcast so rare a seed on wind
That every breath, thus teeming, set the land
Sprouting fruit, flowers, children most fair in legion

To slay spawn of dragon's teeth: speaking this promise, Let flesh be knit, and each step hence go famous.

— Sylvia Plath, “Wreath for a Bridal”