Taken from the book I AM THE SEED THT GREW THE TREE, published by Nosy Crow

Think of it

The first shudder of damp

That somehow signalled

All was ready


In the deep inside of earth

In the muted underneath of winter

Spring began

Not with a sudden trumpet of green

or a sky of confetti blossoms

But with a seed

Small, pale and barely breathing

It lay quietly

Waiting for the lavender clouds

That carry the first warm rains


For some reason as ancient and

Everyday as the sun itself

The seed cracked

Split and softly burst into

A faint tendril

A root a sprout

A thin whisp of growing thing


With no thought of stopping

It pushed through the

Dark soil with the force of

A billion winter winds

Until it

Pierced the crust of the outside and

split the frozen armor of earth

Which has held Spring safe

Since time began.

by Zaro Weil

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