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
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