Earth

Rustic soil, blood and toil,

The fields roll and bleed into one another.

Groundwater flow, each dip and blow

Only sweetens the taste, tests the soil.

And even though right now it seems impossible,

Improbable, I believe in the Earth.

In her way of guiding and grounding me.

I trust the seeds we planted years ago

Have meaning and are yet to blossom.

I wait in joy for next season’s yield

But for now, the frost still sits atop our land.

Thawing for a time we have yet to see,

Yet to feel. And I can wait, if this is real.

-As Nan would say, “what’s for you

Won’t go by you”.