A seedling sits blade-shaped in its dark clay,
Winter face gone green with the spring season,
Tender skin pushing into a sun blazing blind
At its thirst trade; with ticking-time seconds
The dried-air hangs parched in its hands; a dawn
Fusing drought with the cracked soil.
I see a stalwart flower
Coupled by petals quickened into
A thriving day. At that,
Whirls towards a rough storm, crooked clouds
Aloof, squatting demon-wise
Walks forth the rain like a beggar.
A flash like blind crack night’s black
God’s work stood anchored chained, grinning fierce
Shriveling to cinders in a gutted earth —
Fixed in the cracks, echoes in the clay
Some havoc on tender roots, and yet
Strengthens the Iris’ prospect to strike a flower.
What the sun saw engraved in a shadow —
A thriving, tender plant
Fresh buds fit fiber for a dry air
Staunch in an earth house rent, wedded to its roots
Whatever trials to come, steadfast to a cause
Earth’s ever flourishing growth.
Copyright © 07/17/17 lance sheridan®