Growing

A desolate plain of dirt,
mundane to eyes and soul.
A pain that doesn’t hurt,
a team without a goal.

This valley does but lie,
with nothing to infer.
But with a guiding eye,
the sun does confer.

She extends her reach down to this void,
giving potential to this land.
As nature’s magic steroid,
shines down from open hand.

Grey clouds take flight,
with thunder and bright light.
As water rains down below.

A tiny seedling pokes out the mist,
new colour spreading throughout the valley.
Stretching up to the sky it will kiss,
come on little seedling do hurry.

A plant now spreads from the abyss,
growing branch and leaves all the same.
As it attempts to seek solace,
from unforgiving earth whence it came.

So here now stands the mighty oak tree,
casting out the dark of shade.
Standing as tall as can be,
the brown of death begins to fade.

As this desert becomes,
no more.