In Patience

I am a slender thing, a

Wet small seed of self.

Layer upon layer of time

And growth

Blocks from me the surface of the earth.

The time is not yet.

 I drink water from the roots of trees,

Grounding myself.

I rest in molecules of shine

That filtered down through dirt

Like white light through stained glass:

Warm, and comforting.

I rest

In the knowledge of all the time there is.

Rush is not a word     

In the lexicon of my seedling self.

All things

In their own time

Arrive.

And so I wait

With all the wisdom of my journey around, above,

And yet to come.

Neither growing nor asleep

I rest

A tiny source of light

Humming and sparking softly

To myself.