Arrival
By sophie strand
•
Light branches nerve-line through
the high, clean sky. Two crows toss
themselves like so much sand from
an open hand into the windswept river.
Somewhere, in the glittering belt
of Cayuga soil that, below our feet,
mirrors the Milky Way,
a seed gets hungry for air.
•
Today is the beginning of hard work.
There is rock to puncture. Water to suck
from the cracked skin of quartz.
•
In a matter of days, the ice will relax
and fracture the sidewalk.
•
Where will I break to grow?
•
Where, as the earth slackens,
will I raise my new green hand?
•
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