Come grab your chair
I’m over here
These days we write
won’t disappear

We sit to watch the stories grow

I’ve traveled your stories
You rest in my poems
We share the shade
of leaning, home

We sit to watch the stories grow

When you’re the leaves
and I’m the stem,
we root together
and wait for Spring

We sit to watch the stories grow

And next year’s harvest
starts with this year’s seeds
We gather our words
on this fragile belief

(Note: This is a Golden Shovel format borrowing a line — the repeating refrain – from an online collaborative poem I am working on with some teaching colleagues)