less than 1 minute read

It’s still magic.
The emergence
of green from
damp soil, adder
head coiling up,
before unfurling,
saluting the sun.

We transplant small
miracles outside,
cross our fingers,
hope they survive.

Four weeks scatter
like dandelion seeds.
No new shoots grasp
bamboo for support.
Slugs circle, waiting.

Without warning, a glut of blessings,
sweet excess, shock of sudden pods,
hiding the orbs of light within.
We eat them raw, tongues rejoicing.

The wind blows colder.
We split dried husks,
store spherical spells
in envelopes labelled
in pencil and wait for
the return of the sun.

I combined two prompts for this, Amy Kay Poet’s prompt ‘Write about your Eden’ and the Poetry in the time of being alone prompt ‘polyptych. A poem focusing in on a collection of moments.’



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