I started being silly and clichéd to loosen up for another idea I have, but this stumbled out.

it's the final night
and still i must write
palm thwacked against face
words laugh at my chase
quicker than my wit
they do confound it
left in swirling dust
ideas turn to rust
falling apart they
never find their way
except slowly down
into the deep ground
a fertilizer
from each separate burr
that ground against sky
as words said good-bye
and were buried deep
feeling sky's tears seep
through the hard kernel
'till after vernal
up sprout words their own
that words' scorn had sown
stretching out their leaves
unfurl to perceive
the light breath of wind
and feel the sun's grin

Thanks again and again to the contributors at ReadWritePoem and at Poetic Asides for prompts, poems, and feedback. You could say I used the "free prompt" at RWP, but it feels more like it used me. Left me with smile, though, so I can't complain.

(Oops. And I can't count. Fixed a line. Except that I really do pronounce "separate" with two syllables. Sorry.)