All my seeds have gone to Ground.
the mulch and ash from the
has made the earth rich.
the moon has tilled and pulled for days
the heavenly orb has bathed her husks in light.
I am the wind that winds freely on the field
loving the unfurling that has already begun
tending to the open space so shoots have room to grow
And she, the gentle farm-hand is moved by Grace at ease.
And Love, it's splendor ripened, quakes
to bring the Spring.
© 2012 Sunni Chapman