Ode to Donny, the Resin Queen
In quiet DWC she found her start,
A spark of green with lionheart.
Under LEDs she reached for light,
Then felt the warmth of full sun’s might.
She grew in silence, sweet and bold,
Her pistils kissed by dusk and gold.
With sugar leaves and trichome frost,
A work of art that can’t be lost.
Her roots drank deep, her leaves turned flame,
Each yellow tip a whispered name.
She weathered flush, and in her prime,
She bowed her crown — the end of time.
But death, for Donny, is not the end —
She blooms again in every friend
Who breathes her in, who feels her peace,
Her essence sparking sweet release.
She’ll soothe the mind, relax the bone,
Make laughter rise when you’re alone.
A legacy in jars she leaves,
In terpene trails and healing leaves.
So raise a bowl to what she gave —
A life well-grown, a harvest brave.
Donny, gone from stalk and sun,
Yet her journey’s just begun.
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