With your hands
Building shallow
Mounds to dent in
The seeds
When the earth warms
They loosen and split
Swallowing the rain
Quietly in the loamy
Darkness
Even the hardest shell
Will crack under the
Embryonic pressue
Pushing to breach the
Surface
There is love inside
Waiting in the dark
Until it is just warm
Until it is just moist
Enough
The seedling explodes
Dividing the good
Earth, reaching upward
Outward, onward
To light
Seed leaves, at first
Tender, but then
Hardened like
Butterfly wings
Splay out
They are the seed
Itself, transformed
Made manifest and
Green against the dark
Rich soil
Cotyledon, ancients
Might have called them
Cup-shaped hollow
Cupped, anything hollow
Filled up
"Write a love poem about a seemingly ordinary or mundane task.
"Write a love poem about a seemingly ordinary or mundane task.
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