Willing the Moon
(Sarah Webb)

Hard to hear
this slippery sound,
change slipping down

in darkness the bean
uncurls his fat stalk

a cat steps over the mounded row

I sit at my window
writing this,
willing the seeds to grow
the moon  to rise past the trees

demanding a poem
stopping myself

Let it come
the slow push of bean
against mud

1 comment:

Emma Jane said...

Oh, Patience, you are so elusive! I love the last stanza. When I'm being impatient, I'm going to say to myself, "You're willing the moon again, Emma." Thank you for this beautiful poem, Sarah.