Burgeon Lifeless now. Hard beneath the concrete her essence stands, still. In decay she feeds Mother Earth with rough-climbing branches that will never kiss the sun. I watched her bloom late and root shallow in a craggy urban foothold. She taught me to fight the rain, collect due with outstretched limbs, snap without bending, and scrape dust in drought. She all but shut down to survive and never went deep enough to hold. Shoots absorbed with blight, produced fruit that was untouchable. Her friends were fences and we, the children who played around her just outside. In her spring she could warm the sky. Beautiful, buzzing, humming with promise of growth. But as time moved we watched her face fall in anticipated dormancy. And when that bitter winter came, her hollow rotted structure gave. I saw her wither, withdraw, and leave. I must now tend This bitter seed that grows in me.
~ Lauren Nalls
Spring 2014 Volume 2, Issue 1
A compilation of the Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Volumes 1 and 2 (2013-2014)