We’re not field crops,
we’re mosses.

We don’t belong in dried dirt
cultivated out of recognition

but forests and on sidewalks,
porches and prairies and
old lawn mower seats.

We belong where we want to grow
landing on barren earth,
coloring it green,
making way for life.

Take our water,
our nourishment,
our rights,

but we hold strong
waiting for that single

drop to wake us up,
fill us out, remind us

we can thrive.