“Beneath the dust an inner harvest toils
strengthening, strengthening, nourished by a place beyond thoughts,
a lixor of passion, reciprocal, replenishing.
Verdure anew with each season past.
A gentle breeze as particles stir, at first one spec then two, three.
Hurry not, slowly to unfurl the green shoots once more,
carefully, tenderly as a butterfly cupped.”