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.