At first, the perfect earth was just beneath us.
We didn’t cultivate it, we didn’t plant anything.
We sat there on top of it, relished in it.
Mystified by its potential, in love with its offerings.
I think about kites just connected to a thin string.
Reliant on a good launch, then the fickle wind.
Not too strong to break the string, and not too weak for the kite to plummet to the ground.
Either colouring the sky signaling spring; or, forgotten in a corner collecting dust.
I decided to pour a foundation, make it feel like a permanent residence.
You nestled in.
Nestled in tightly in your Cancerian shell there in the back.
On, but somehow removed from the land that made dreams seem within reach.
I waited patiently, and sometimes impatiently for you to come out.
I bought plane tickets, read books, worked on myself
hoping to get that feeling back,
I knocked on the shell, you didn’t like that.
So I waited. Waited for you to come out on your own terms and timeline.
I loved you, but the signal didn’t get through properly.
The weeds took over, and I knew it was too late.
Those trees were so tall and fragile that they were going to collapse on us in the wind
and maybe you sort of wanted that to happen.
I left what I could,
made sure I cracked that shell open before leaving hoping some light could get to you again.
Maybe you sort of wanted that to happen.
Now things have changed, new love, new life.
I can be simultaneously happy for the present but sad for the past.
Sad for the land that sat dormant.
Sad for the foundation and walls that hosted sorrow and isolation.
Sad for the entangled birch trees that shadowed us;
but, happy for the real possibility we embraced.