To a Child
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| (Found here) |
I plant? Today, these two
Round-lobed leaves have spread
Above the soil, but who
Will tell me which black seed
It was
I dropped into the hole
My finger made? Like stars
That flower the blue bowl
Of night, my sweet nameless
Things grow
And will be what they are,
In ordered patterns. Now,
They don’t cohere. No picture
Emerges for me. You,
Too, may
Grow to learn that fiat
Is all that you can say —
Love someone like that.
Reap uncertainty.
~Sally Thomas
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