Lady In Waiting

 

  

I will gather rocks from the ruin
to restore the hearth's flame, the water's well.

I will breathe in wind from the pines
to unlock the rusted gate. Its field sparse
but meant for gardening. The gypsy seeds
resettled, content. And soon

fine roots will sprawl. The radish bell
will blossom in our bones. Its crisp peal
making you crave -- something new yet native,
a partnership, a home.