Everyday I watch you sink your fingers into the soft loam
And gently, ever so slowly, stir the earth.
I see you water the bed you formed
With measured liquid in your palms.
Then pat lovingly, the small seed you had before buried.
One day it will grow.
You assured me.
I do so hope.
More fervently than I let show.
For this seed to be a strong and mighty oak
That shelters and stands for centuries
And not simply be mulch
For a bloom that someone else will plant.
So everyday, I watch.
And wait with you.