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.