Perennial

I’m delving down
into the belly of earth,
into deep loam of Mother Terra
communing with earth-worms and tubers.
My feet carve clay
thighs move rock aside
make way for my daughters,
tiny seeds, caught by the midwife winds.
And into earth they’ll sink
cradled in placental darkness, waiting
for their turn to praise the rain,
drink the sky,
shed their own seeds to the wind.