Stirring white crystal sand
of bone meal
into rich brown mud,
she places each tulip bulb,
coated in the dark mixture,
a nest of kiss-shaped eggs,
close, but not touching.
In October’s now, she sees April,
sealing it in, pats down the earth,
like a sea-turtle burying her offspring.
Maybe the bones’ phosphorous will glow
a little in that darkness—guiding the shoots upward,
as the luminescent sea signals to
those baby turtles: This is your chance. Swim.
Traveler. Baker. Beauty Seeker. Hiker. Paper Ephemera Collector. Sharpie Lover. Etch-A-Sketch Artist. Mondegreen (Misheard Lyric) Connoisseur. Public Space Ninja. Nickname Giver.
Half Sky Writing is a service of Half Sky Journeys.
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