I live in a field,
Circled by the daisies
My sister wore as a crown
The grass is round and full
Beneath my fingers.
My toes are ringed with rich soil.
The sound of water rises
Just below my senses
In the distance, the evergreens loom
My life is hedged around with green
Surely my inheritance is blessed.
Yet this rock cannot grow roots
I imagine legs to carry me away
From all that I have not planned
But I remain planted and aware
Of every root pushing at my head
And the steady throb of thought
That pulses out the evergreens
And the trickle of the stream
Which passes by padded by pine needles.
I am dehydrated and yet do not think of water
I search for hydration from the skies
Or from some distant well-spring
Till my stony pores weep from hope deferred.
The deer comes to the stream
Stepping on the stony path,
Littered with daisies and bright grass
To quench its panting thirst with blooming water.