Standing at the edge of Three Sister’s Garden I wonder what the seeds are doing four days after being planted.
I imagine them curled up in the dark earth. Drinking in the moisture from Monday’s soaking rain and Jon’s daily watering.
Maybe by now they’re beginning to stir. Unable to resist the changes going on inside of them.
Soon they’ll be stretching and stretching, the edge of an uncurled leaf, separating the soil, poking up out of the earth.
And feeling the sun on the tiniest tip of their being they’ll say, in their own corn, or bean or squash way, Oh! this is what I’ve been looking for.