Here we are
we are waiting for things to grow
outside or inside
it doesn’t really matter where
the smallest
indication might be the most reassuring
the grave
overlaid with weeds from untending
the path
so smitten with the turning of green
it is as if
no one has walked this way even
in the rain
thunder can’t keep the lightning away
an egg
waiting for its mother to hatch
and even now
with the sound of sound’s replacement
overbrimming
with fertile soil so restless for wake
it can’t keep us out
for we are shedding our old skins now
Here we are
we are waiting for things to grow
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