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Seed-leaves spreading like tiny hearts end to end;

i imagine you tall and strong, sweet-bitter leaves of kale;

but first i must disentangle you,

give you room to breathe,

cut you loose from your home and try to help you thrive elsewhere;

please forgive me for this disruption;

i only want you to bloom.

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“Tiny hearts end to end” “try to help you thrive elsewhere” This is so precious 💗 Such respect, such love. Thank you for sharing this moment with us.

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So tiny

So fragile

So delicate

Signs of life beginning

Signs of hope sprouting

A promise of the future

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seedling, God’s green hope

leaves unfurling, bursting forth

an act of great trust

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An act of great trust indeed :) Thank you for noticing that! Beautiful.

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Seedling

A little bundle of life

Spreading its elbows above the dirt

Aiming for the sun

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I love the imagery of seedling elbows

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Elbows.....🙂

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I will thirdly echo enjoying the seedling elbows 😊💗

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A bit of green peeks

through the soil, tiny tendrils

slowly unfurling,

stretching, reaching for

the sun, calm and unhurried;

a lesson, a gift.

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Beautiful. So refreshing and clear.

I originally saw “green peeks” as “green peaks” and whether intentional or not, I love the juxtaposition of such an image as a honoring of growth.

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Thank you! It was a happy accident.

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a lesson and gift, indeed.

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a tiny seedling

holds vulnerability

no life without them

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Love this One Bob

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I remember drawing the root pushing

down down into the soil --

observing subterranean growth in

seventh grade science.

Thinning the rows of beets and carrots,

I lament the loss of potential --

lightly touching my stomach where

life briefly grew.

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Those last few lines - they're exactly how I felt grieving my miscarriage. Thank you for putting them into words.

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Thank you for sharing such a tender experience.

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This is beauitful April. Those last two lines caught me deep. Thank you for your sharing of your marvelous gifts.

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You have such a gift for capturing such singular poignant moments with clarity and precision. I really enjoy your poems. Thank you, April!

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I really appreciate your kind words!

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how come most things seem to start so

meek. puny. crushable. sinless.

& who decides when to drop the '-ling' ?

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You are so tiny,

Yet so full of potential.

You quiver with excitement,

Ready to burst forth from your hull.

Will someone pick you,

To be planted into fertile soil?

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I wonder what you, the author, are thinking about in answer to your own question you ask :) Are you curious to pick it up?

It’s lovely, Liz!

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That is a good question! I think it must have been on my mind because I’ve been talking to a friend who knows a lot about gardening, about helping me get a vegetable garden, started in my yard.

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I didn’t see this until now! That’s so wonderful. I hope you have a joyous time developing that garden and reaping its fruits 😊

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Seedling becomes plant

Plant blooms in all its glory

Flowers and Fruit shine

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Seedling

You are on your way.

You thought you were buried,

but you worked your way up

through the dirt.

Here you are

a little unsteady and

weak in the knees,

but you are standing,

turning your face

to the sun.

Keep going, keep growing.

Soak up the rain.

Dig your roots deep.

Drink in those rays.

You will branch out

and develop

in amazing ways.

You play a vital part

in the mutual work

of the green world.

And we are thankful.

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This is wonderful Trish! It has such a wonderful cadence and rhythm. Thankful for your writing, too!

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seedling

buried deep

so long ago

planted

with all things

to grow fully

except light

and care

to fully become

who you were

created to be

seedling

buried deep

so long ago

planted in

poor environment

with little attention

and no care

trampled down

and neglected

ignored and cast aside

fear not

seedling

buried deep

so long ago

planted

don't give up hope

a new day dawns

a new community forms

light and love

are on the way

encouragement like water

will help you grow

seedling

buried deep

planted

so long ago

you are infinitely valued

you created for more

than you can even imagine

the world needs you

to fully bloom

to see your potential

to add to its beauty

seedling

buried deep

planted

long ago

you are human

created with dignity

and intention

plus a purpose

that makes the world

a better place

because you are in it

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Now my turn to enjoy your beautiful encouragement of a young creation.

I love the way the repetition of “seedling buried deep so long ago” builds the dialogue and compassion in the context of a legend or an epic. It’s lovely.

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Another fine poem Steven! I like the way you wind us through gain and loss and ground us back into hope. Well done!

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Thank you much.

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Embodied potency

Ancient knowing, with

Ample possibility

Capacious liminality

No longer seed, but

Not yet tree

Radical vulnerability

Embryonic roots, then

Downy shoots

Tender seedling

There are no guarantees, and

We keep living and loving

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"Embryonic roots, then

Downy shoots"

So rich, vivid, gentle, dynamic.

thank you.

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“There are no guarantees, and we keep living and loving” 💗 We always have a time and place for love! Beautiful.

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I love this Sara! "Radical Vulnerability" What a splendid phrase! Your writing touches my heart.

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Bright blue sky day,

warmth of spring creeping in,

light shines through my window

as the children gather for lunch below,

ready to embrace the songs of the day.

Seedlings in human form,

grown from seeds planted intentionally or not

blooming in hope for a future that is possible.

I wonder.

How will they grow?

How will we tend and nurture them?

Will we treat them better than the trees?

Or the same? Or worse?

Will they be as resilient as the oak?

As flexible as the magnolia?

As stunning as a dogwood?

As winsome as the willow?

Will they look at us and weep,

as their kindreds are cut down,

clear cut in the horrors of our times.

In their growing,

will they look at us with love.

With hope? With understanding?

Will they know we did the best we could?

Or that when we failed

we were simply too afraid.

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This one gave me chills. Powerful words.

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Thank you Karri. I enjoy your writing.

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I feel such bittersweetness from these lines.

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I don't know what to say about this except that it makes my heart ache, and I'm grateful.

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Thank you A. I am not quite sure how this poem unfolded. I started in a compleely different place, thinking about gardens; but from my second floor office I heard the children from the school below playing outside, saw the trees across the way in their various stages of coming to life, and thought of the children, my chilren and grandchildren, the children in Sudan and Ukraine, in Texas, Buffalo, Florida and every town, and how we are nurturing them with the destruction we create. The late poet/songwriter John Trudel says it so powerfully and poignantly in a poem and song called "How Does Tomorrow Dream." The garden poem will hae to wait until tomorrow! Thank you!

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Wow, this one is powerful, Larry. THANK YOU for bringing this.

I love so many things about it. The metaphors. The specific descriptions. The rhythm. Your attentiveness. Your sadness. Your resilient love.

“Blooming in hope for a future that is possible.” “Stunning as a dogwood.” And especially: “will they know we did the best we could? Or that when we failed we were simply too afraid.”

This is so important. Please don’t stop 💗

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Thank you for your wonderful comments Jillian. They touch my heart and are so special! Thank you for being such a wonderful and affirming presence here.

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You’re so welcome :) It’s my pleasure to share this space with you.

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The Seedling

It never ceases to amaze me

That a seed placed into the soil

And given sunlight and water

Will sprout and flourish and grow

Into whatever it is meant to be.

Karri Temple Brackett

May 10. 2023

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ceaseless amazement.

our deepest invitation and yearning

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Take no creation, moment, or process for granted, and wait to be amazed always 😊💗 Your openness here is beautiful, Karri.

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Seedling

A spark

Blushing darkness in the

Void starting somewhere

Nowhere until it begins to

Crunch forward restless as

The dawn’s eye in a crouching

Tiger spit fire doesn’t even sound

The same doesn’t even play

The same jibber jabber rags to

Riches princess in the ruins

Edge edgy until you love it

Until it seduces you just like

All the others who hold onto

Their kites and sent them

Soaring golden with the eagle who

Peers with golden eye wisdom and

Elegance that always let them

Finish it explosively writing

Banners on the tall

Wall that proclaim your

Fire

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I love this gem of a poem!

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Thank you so much, Larry! 💗

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