Perennial

by Ronda Broatch

I'm delving down
into the belly of earth,
into deep loam of Mother Terra
communing with earth-worms and tubers.
My feet carve clay
thighs move rock aside
make way for my daughters,
tiny seeds, caught by the midwife winds.
And into earth they'll sink
cradled in placental darkness, waiting
for their turn to praise the rain,
drink the sky,
shed their own seeds to the wind.

Ronda Broatch lives in Kingston, Washington with her husband, two children, four chickens, three goldfish, one leopard gecko, and several little gardens. Her work has appeared in Exhibition Magazine, Pontoon 6, An Anthology of Washington State Poets, and Raven Chronicles Food & Culture Online. She also has pieces forthcoming in Rain Dog . She has twice been a finalist in the Pacific Northwest Writer's Association Literary Contest, and this year placed second in the poetry division.