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Morning Moon - 7. Love is the dry dirt

Love is the dry dirt from which nothing sprouts

but it is also the fleeting bloom of the tulip in late March.

I am the gardener who can barely work a hose

and who sits with clenched, fistfuls of soil

frustrated and wilting - resolved and willing

for there are more seeds to tend

for there are more seasons to spend

in diligent toil and diligent hope.

How indeed could we find beauty in the dying whisper of Spring

if not for the cherry blossoms gentle cough almost lost to the wind?

That accentuates its delicate form as it lays its body against my skin.

While I clutch onto its arms - legs - waist

with hands colored green and sprouting leaves,

longing and scared - crying and prepared

for there are more seeds to tend

for there are more seasons to spend

in diligent toil and diligent hope.

But it is also the fleeting bloom of the tulip in late March,

Love, the dry dirt from which nothing sprouts.

Copyright © 2018 Juan Manuel Sandoval; All Rights Reserved.
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