A Bud is Born

From the dirt we are born, from the ground we breathe life. Waiting
just below the surface until the time is right.
A soaked up raindrop.
A ray of sun that spills over me.
But not just yet.
Tiny footsteps above me.
And a breeze I can’t yet taste. Worried of the world without me
but still I have to wait.
I feel the soil tighten.
Or perhaps it is 1 that grows.
Soon it will happen.
But still, not just yet.
Days pass, both sun and moon revolve. And though I don’t yet see them,
this I can resolve.

I am here. I am waiting.

And then that grand day comes.
A rain that pours right over me.
A rain I love to drink. And with it comes the growth I need, and I begin to think…
Now. Go.
I move through soil, climb through dirt.
There she is, mother before me.
Blue above me. Green surrounds me.
I gasp. Fresh air.
A sip of all I have been missing.
But mother, she tells me I have it wrong.
It’s not a world I have been waiting to see. But instead
a world who has been waiting for me.