Yesterday I Was a Beet Seed

Yesterday I was a beet seed
parched and prickly,
easily mistaken for a burr
or one of the stones Nonna plucks
from the beans
and discards.

Yesterday I was a beet seed.
burnt drab and hushed,
wizened and guarded,
roughly round and
seemingly lifeless.

Yesterday I was a beet seed,
falling to the earth,
wedging myself between
a skipping stone
and a composting leaf,
cradled in the soil.

This morning I stir,
pressing out and away
cleaving craggy enclosure,
straining down deep
to root myself.

26122812592_6d43f253a7_cTomorrow I reach overhead,
arms unfurling,
thrusting against the earth,
unsettling a mound of debris
to let in the sun.

O yes.
Yesterday I was a beet seed.
Today I am awake.
Tomorrow I break through
and receive the sun.

Although today is day 3 of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), I actually was inspired from the prompt from day 1. I used the online metaphor generator introduced on in day 1 and was given the metaphor “I am dry, prickly, falling, burnt and quiet”. This reminded me of the odd shape of the beet seeds I germinated this week and planted today. I’m not much of a gardener, but I’ve started gardening in the last two weeks to cope with the paralysis I’ve felt in the face of the COVID 19 pandemic. 

Image Credit: Seedling, Kevin Doncaster, CC2.

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