Final Frost

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I admire the try
Despite the spotlights and fanfare
All artificial, to date
Nothing like the great outdoors

Next comes the hardening
Hardly a problem at all
No one knows the struggle, then strength
O’ The Seedling

Such Dust

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There on a Sunday
Working 
Putting your fingerprints everywhere
I hoped it was a labor of love
When you looked down at the sawdust 
Quietly
I wish I’d bothered you and asked

Wednesday morning, now
May my late words catch up to you
You take that space 
You make it
Like no other
You breathe new life here
I’ll stop in soon