Fertile Ground

Colors of rust emerge at sunrise
with a scent of loss thick as fog.
A woman’s face reflects the canvas
of a changing sky.
She looks upwards
towards memories never birthed
holding her empty womb.
Her eyes close as seasons change.
Winter approaches
and with it the harvest
of her bud picked too soon.
A baby in the distance
cries for its first morning suckle.
She wakes again, slowly,
her hands rising to her heart.

Published in Rise Up Anthology, Oprelle, 2021.