Seeding

I sink my skin into the soil

Place a beginning

Under a black, damp blanket.

I am an instrument

Of the making magic -

The Sun says so.

I touch more places,

But some only see dirt -

Ask me to clean it up.

I can not understand resistance 

To scattered bits of beauty.

I have faced it all my life.

What kind of soul 

Would not want 

This earth

Filled with flowers? 

LJ Ireton 

C. 2023