A Solitary Sprout
I woke this morning, my muse,
mere vapor in the heat, rising
almost beyond my grasp.
Suddenly alert, like a weary
mother wakened by her baby’s
cry, I nabbed its fringes when
I glimpsed a solitary sprout
in my rows of beans. If seeds
store eons of energy to free
themselves from soil’s blindfold,
I, too, can be the one to water all
till muse’s mist falls as rain—
the beans, the verses, too.
11 thoughts on "A Solitary Sprout"
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All it takes is one to open the gates! I love all your natural muses. “Soil’s blindfold” – wow!!
I just checked the garden and there are many more sprouts – but I got to celebrate the first one with my grandson this morning!
nice work!
love the mental image of words, or beans falling from the sky like rain. 🙂 apols. for liberties taken..
What a confident and beautiful poem this is. You have this impressive control and precision in these lines, as if you’ve sculpted them—which you have.
Ha, Kevin – I scribbled this down waiting for my grandson to fall asleep after we’d been watching him and his brother for 8 hours! Admittedly, I worked on it a bit later over a cup of tea.
Beautiful piece. Love “my muse,/mere vapor in the heat,”
Sometimes, like sprouts,
poems come unbidden
& unbridled.
Nice work
“If seeds store eons of energy to free
themselves from soil’s blindfold,
I, too, can be the one to water…” Lovely.
the beans, the verses, too.
Lovely.
I echo the above. I love the title and the last line especially!
Love:
Suddenly alert, like a weary
mother wakened by her baby’s
cry,
and
I, too, can be the one to water all
till muse’s mist falls as rain—
the beans, the verses, too.