Sharlyn Page Mount Dora (Jim Steele)
When early from the infinite, I
chose the twig that touched the sky
Hearkened to a sound first heard
from topmost leaf, sussurrant word,
It was the sky-tolled call of home,
and recognition rustled down the bone.
Then my body in a seeding race
became Earth's transient spawning place,
Life called out, hoarse from earth,
the rounded body insisted birth,
As suckling newborns, wet and red,
force surrender to this self-made bed.
Here below are voiceless gardens,
seedlings faint for thirst,
I rise to bring the water,
stoop to raise the earth.
Granted a god inchoate to hold,
mute till touch is voice,
I learn the need to feed at root,
oblique to choice.