Buried deep under well-loved green hardback

swirled in serifs of gold leaf still bright

Neither dead nor forgotten not lost

but waiting to take root

first a primal crack

a tenacious root pale and hungry

but willing to split rock

finds its purchase

then the unfurling

tremulous trembling green spearheading through sun-warmed earth

there is

green just beneath the surface

before the crack of the majestic oak limb

before grief and mourning becomes grass and morning

before the lush scent of roses wild with thorns after a rain

before any ivy-encrusted stone walls gardens and secret keys

before the shovel caresses the sun-warmed dirt

before the first steps and transformations

before the blooming of the first line on the first dog-eared page

there is

a seed