Sandy soil

Holding

Tiny roots

Grasping

Revealing

Tenacious strength

To spread

Obnoxiously

Till the meadow

Is overcome.

 

“Wild strawberries!”

the squeal of delight,

the diligent delving,

the hunt

quickly

satisfied

with sweet,

small gems.

“They’re everywhere!”

the golf game

abandoned

for the joy

of discovery.

They pile in our hot palms,

perfect babies,

and we push them

on others

and our fingers

stain pink.