You have come up to me from the ground
In the hoarfrost, and the dew, and the breeze at my feet
In the stifling ripple of mid-day heat
The metallic shift of an approaching storm
The soil yielding, full and warm.
I pull from the roots, and find you there
Rhizomes, and tubers, and brachts laid bare
Coming clean from the land, shedding humus and sand
Water washed provend waits in my hand.
I turn in the wind, I see your form
I find you in funnels and fog and storm
In rain and mist and early dew
In buds and green shoots pushing through.
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