gardening - loving a place

A love for this place 

Got under my nails like the dark dirt 

Poured over the thin stalk seedlings slowly growing. 

Grow, I whispered, over the metallic sound of the humming road,

angry voices,

gulls crying. 

A love for this place, a deep affection, grew roots, whisp-like at first, then dark and deep as the water, wind and warmth came. The roots 

held, strengthened. 

Of course, the whole thing

took time. And other’s hands.

But there was this stubborn growing.

Love grew. From affection into form.

Into the presence of the living 

Stubborn green and fruitful things.

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