My Harvest

Written for Word Prompt Wednesday.


I am harvesting the seeds sown as a child

From thumbholes in the bare earth, each miniscule body

Buried in them, and abandoned.


Not neglected, though. My thoughts coaxed them

Leaf-curling and persistent, from crevices

Not sealed after all.


But last night—in the turned-away gaze of the dark—

The little plants with their deep, deep roots

Pulled me out tangled with them.