We are each in this place
where life’s currents
(so it would seem)
have set us,
much like these hills
dropped by floods
so many times
so long ago
The seeds within our banks
wake up and start their processes,
roots seek into soil, scout into places
where water collects under pebbles,
where threads of mycelium
extend their welcome,
shoots lift their heads
as if nothing else had ever happened,
as if no cataclysm
had rent the land,
as if, indeed,
this opportunity to live
had been expressly prepared for them,
this dew, this sun,
this whole community,
this hour, this day.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 3, 2016
