I am prepared to wait, unlit,
In my place; contemplating
While overhead, the world waits, sunlit.
I dig deep. My roots go down,
Feeding, searching, far and wide,
Anchoring me for what’s to come.
I plunge through ancient layers
While worms caress and coil
Finding secrets hidden there.
When I am filled with potential
And comforting warmth surrounds me,
I raise one finger, hand and arm,
A sword of green, to pierce the dark.
I rise! I rise!
There are those, who will not green
This year, or any other.
Their broken remnants we absorb
And they sustain us still.
We green for them
And softly give their names
Unto the wind.
All other photos by Morag Donald
Unearthed © Morag Donald 2017