rich dirt

the dirt is rich here
filled with memories and shoe prints
the moss grows over the rocks
aspen trees take root

i am afraid.

forests burn and fire risks can be high,
anything can happen.
the power trembles through my cold fingers
and i trace the prints on the ceiling.

i am tired.

you cannot stop yourself from growing,
and you cannot make a river stop flowing.
but still i try.

i am not scared to grow,
but scared to change.
change has been hard.
saplings cannot stay saplings
and the trees cannot stay bloomed.

do not fear, O Jacob, for I am with you.

i look into the faces here.
they are wrinkled and cracked,
but glory shines underneath.

the trees are budding. 
she laughed. she loves it.
the dirt is rich here.

hope lies underneath these cracked lines.
i still have a long road ahead of me.

xx

a walk with adelaide before i get back to school. i hear summer's echoes.