A seed fell, many years ago,
found fertile virgin ground.
Fed by the earth, began to grow,
life started without sound.
The sky provided for its thirst
rich soil embraced a tiny shoot.
A tree of beauty blossomed first
then branches hung with fruit.
This magic happened long ago
before man’s breath took form.
In fury seeds of war he’d sow,
turn cold the hearts once warm.
But still the tiny seed remains
replacing trees that age and fall.
To watch us with a deep distain,
while standing strong and tall.
2007 Roan.
Ann Beard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-seed-2/
