Bean.
Blueberry.
Cherry.
How I wish to see how you could have grown,
But too ripe you were,
So I did not reap what I had sown.
This soil cries with nutrients for you and only for you, and bleeds without you embedded in it. But this soil is not quite mature yet, a quiet and steady ambience you deserve.
I cannot wait to see you at the next harvest, come what may. I am imagining it now:
Fig.
Plum.
Peach.
Potato.
Developing into something greater from a seed was all you knew.
Life flashed before my eyes as I pulled you from the earth, I was too intimidated by your perfection and you slipped through my grasp. I felt every inch of your potato eyes, corn ears and celery bones. I looked down by mistake and saw your ever changing colors and shapes that had showed, that's how I knew my mistake, I should have reaped what I sowed.
Pomegranate.
Lettuce.
Coconut.
Watermelon.
And even though next time I plan on watching you sprout to your fullest, you will always be my little blueberry. I will nurture you and never stop. I will see you grow, and this time, I will reap what I sow.
-Hanna Guzman (2021)
