The brassica weeds with their yellow blooms,

The WineCups, maroon, that flower here, now,

In the ancient amphitheater where Asclepius healed the sick

Are edible,

Medicinal,

Just as the ancestral plants that grew here then.

They’ve always been.

And these children that thrive today in the flora family,

Have emerged from seeds that found their way up

Through the ancient rock that formed the seats

Where our ancestors sat

To hear each other speak their truths

And bare their souls 

In search of cathartic healing.

The caduceus stands.

The brazen serpents may represent 

The strands of our dna

Rising from the clay from which were formed,

Combined with stormy seas,

And nourished by the primordial plants

That gave rise to these

Wild Mustard seeds that continue to grow

And the delicious mallow family 

We know as WineCups today,

And we, ourselves, the fruit of this earth

Which has peopled continuously 

Since time immemorial.

But if you come here,

No need to bring a lunch

With wrappers you would need to trash,

Just munch on the wild grasses known as mustard and WineCups.

-jenn