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| Cindy, xxx |
How did it start,
that first spark of life
in that first cell?
How did it know
to expand, divide
into myriad forms?
Into this season’s
ruby apples,
pumpkins rotund,
orange as the harvest
moon about to rise
over this cornstalk
bundle, sashed
in the center,
graceful gypsy
arms swaying
in the breeze,
preparing to dance?
In a field we can’t see, live cells embedded in soil and stubble tingle,
quiver, a tuning fork
preparing to mark
the next cycle’s pitch.
~ Pat Martin