Fatima, Plain and Small

If you grow up in a grove
you can abide the plains
but you’ll scan the earth for growth,
the sky for promises of rain.
You’ll get lost in brainstorms
that green no grass,
and when you turn to mold
a thought you’ll find no one to ask.
Next time at the grove, you’ll say,
I’ll climb every tree, go on
a thinking spree, talk to every
bird and bee and tell them:
you haven’t seen what I didn’t see.

I come from the plains.

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