deepundergroundpoetry.com

Spring

The sky bites a chunk off the Sun,
as if it were a quince and
the juice dripped down
its beard covered chin

- it's called raindrops,

they leak into crevices,
every split on every piece
of generative earth,
where the earthworms thrive,
where the roots stretch anxious fingers
out to fetch the run off,
out to drink what's left.
The sky bites a chunk off the Sun
and so the seed 'comes the seedling
and the quince tree starts to grow.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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