A new thread is like a new season. In that light, this poem is for this new spring in the Lair.
Seedling
So small it was, just a tiny emerald tinted shoot,
its stem pushing up through earth with pride.
Struggling with its birth, unwilling to hide,
seemingly fearless of grazer, or a wayward boot.
Its leaves unfurled like a pair of leafy fists,
ready to take on life itself, a scrapper so small.
A bit of vibrant life, daring to rise to Nature’s call,
sun seeker, rain drinker, proving it exists.
Seedling, lovely poem. Thank you.