White bell-shaped blooms bend slightly
Paying homage to depths beneath

Crisp grass forged upward
Through a deep darkness
By a cataclysmic split
Of a tiny seed

The ground brims
With tiny creatures wiggling
Rummaging about the vastness
Of open space, displaced momentarily
By bursting stalks

The ground beneath, burgeoning,
Hopeful seeds trembling,
Splitting sides,
Seeping upward,
Awaiting their glorious day–
And did you catch it, before it died?
Before it was chipped away,
Before it faded?

And life is like this,
This wait, this wait of spring
This waiting for bloom
This glancing at the cusp
Of something glorious
This waiting of–

All around me, the ground is plucked
And picked and upturned and raked
Struggling to shake off
The shreds of winter

And I have been waiting that long
For the land of dripping green.


One thought on “Waiting

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