Seeds
Seeds
They come in a bag from Agway,
tiny kernels that make you sneeze.
Hard to believe they’ll germinate,
when you fling them on the lawn.
Long ago I sowed seed
in a fertile valley
cultivated by my wife.
Did I believe some day
I’d marvel at a young man,
our son, the same age now
as I was then?
I look out my window at the lawn
dusted with chaff and wait
for the miracle that
forever confounds.
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Authors: Robert Riche. Form: Poem. Length: 15 lines. Editor who accepted this story: Previous Editors.
Author Bio
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