The Abandoned Child

The child curls up
In an empty field
Deserted
Worthless as the scattered trash
Left to die
Unnoticed ... hot and dry
Who will come and moisten?
Blessed water, nectar of life!
She closes like a hydra
Under the hot sun
Inside a seed unfurls
A pulsing, spinning diatom
It wants to sprout
It longs for the place to succor long
From the rich moist soil of life
Water tumbling down and around like a circus!
And banish drought like a phantom scream.

Cynthia
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