Haiku Vivant
spices, herbs, spirits //
isn’t life sensational? //
it all comes from dirt //
spices, herbs, spirits //
isn’t life sensational? //
it all comes from dirt //
feeling somewhat scared //
being my own whole person //
eyes intent on joy //
A deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. …
dirty fingernails
smoothing over soft tilled earth
clear mind, light shoulders
fragile budding growth
trembling in the crisp spring rain
strength gleaned through peril
boundless horizons
staring out from a dark room
shutters thrown open
my landlord pulls plants
from cracks between concrete steps
spring’s ardent regrowth
a collective breath
my heart no longer heavy
seedlings renew me
blossoms effloresce
breathtaking sublime brilliance
we were all seeds once
from inside I stare
at mangled seedlings, trembling
ice shards from sky hell
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