From Seed
Some seeds live in the womb of Earth
for decades, waiting for rain. The seeds
I planted in March are now blooming,
despite that I nearly lost them because
I over-watered in the beginning. Too
anxious for them to take root, I poured
into them every day when what they
really needed was margin—space and
time to drink in what they had already
been given. I am so anxious for results,
I nearly always drown out the beauty
of waiting, and growing, and becoming;
there is beauty simply in adapting to new
surroundings. Those March seeds, now
in bloom, remind me: one day, so will I.
