First it’s a seed. Buried beneath damp earth. Encased in dirt. Secure. As it absorbs the moisture, it starts to grow out in all directions as if it just can’t contain it’s excitement anymore. Nature’s sexual energy in slow motion. The roots, though light and soft like doily cut in half, down the middle, so, so thin and fragile – They take hold and grip the earth tight. As tight as they can.  Days pass. Rain comes and goes. Perhaps a cold spell. And now, it begins its ascent. Trepidatiously creeping higher and higher until it has broken the dirt. Nature’s periscope. This baby stem looks around and takes a deep breath of country air. Middle America spaciousness. The roar of silence under a big overcast country sky. Suddenly, a cloud begins to shift and a star is born as the Sun for the first time in this flower’s life and it is overwhelming ecstasy. If Baby Stem had eyes, they would have closed, basking in it. Warmth and like, time stops. Reaching up with it’s top, if it had arms they would be reaching backwards, as to further propel its face and front to this golden ball of buttery bliss. In days to come, a leaf will sprout at each end. The stem will grow a little taller. Reaching, reaching, reaching. If it had arms they would be up and outstretched, so jealous Little Stem would be if he knew of the trees in the forest. A bud forms at the top. A little nugget of floral promise. Beginning to smell sweet. Even the bees have started buzzing about, checking on its progress. Playing a waiting game, though impatient they are. When the sun goes down and the moon shines over Stem and Bud, it takes a breath.

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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