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by Nancy Clark
By chance
A seed of playful, hidden springtime life
And touched the rhythms of the earth
And trembled,
Almost afraid to grow.

Drought would give it choking pain,
Frost would darken; footsteps trample,
Or grown, it might emerge unlovely.

Small, as yet a yearning dream
And eager to be new,
The seed embraced the darkness of the earth,
Sought paths to send its tender roots,
Released itself to warm caress of rain,

And grew
And knew, punching into sunlight,
A shriek of sanctity in its tiny leaf.

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Copyright © 1999 by Nancy Clark. All rights reserved.