Seed

The tiny seed wasn’t certain it wanted to sprout It had been through such trauma above the soil winds buffeting it this way and that striking sign posts and trees bouncing off them before being whisked away once again with no idea when or where it would end everything out of its control Finally the gusts died down and it had landed where it now found itself trampling feet and the activity of animals pushing it down into the ground buried where it was safe and warm but it knew it had a job to do so it sent the first small tendril creeping out of its shell and took a look around only to discover it had come to rest at the base of a big oak tree which shaded the sun its roots spread in an extensive network all around selfishly soaking up all the water when it rained I came across the brown and suffering little shoot identifying with its plight as I had experienced much the same metaphorically since the morning I had emerged from my mother’s womb Retrieving a trowel I carefully transplanted it to a sunnier spot where it might have a chance to survive and thrive