A Poem: Seeds

Are you just a little angry, ruffled feathers.
Or tail high like the cat, fur on edge.

I woke this morning out of sorts,
that if licked, I might taste as salt.
It’s hard sometimes not to nurture a seed.
To give it space on the shelf, to ponder it.

Which could be wise for a time,
but then there is Khalil Gibran’s
advice to plant,
which already gives a strange relief.

That early before anyone is up,
I might heed the birds to the great outdoors.
Settle my hands in the comfort of dirt,
dig a hole, cover it.

And tomorrow I think I’ll wander the garden,
trying to recall where my seeds have been sown.
I do hope though I won’t till next season.
that they’re given time to become something else.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
October 2020

“In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden. And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth, there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers. And my neighbours came to behold them, and they all said to me, ‘When autumn comes again, at seeding time, will you not give us of the seeds of these flowers that we may have them in our gardens?’”
~ Khalil Gibran

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