The late rains

Under a dark sky
all felt illumined.

Defiant brightness
refused the blanket of gray,
like a lantern dangling
rebelliously at a cliff’s edge.

I scattered them
like stardust
over the thirsty earth.

Millions flew
out of my hands all at once
into the windy downpour.

Each speck
of seed
carried a restive core,
the great awaiting –
for days, months and years –
for the impossible moment
made real.

Which would become
sprout, stem, leaf and flower,
I would not know,
I cast them as I cast my words upon the world.

I know not which ones
will burst into life,
but I trust in this task.