Tender shrub, green leaves of its foliage, the curl of a baby's fingernail, knocked over by storm, its brush crumbling to touch' how did I miss it'it's all that I can do'for those I could not save'but twist the stubborn bush from its tangled roots & turn it upright as if giving birth to a baby in breach. I don't mind mud underneath my nails, worms my fingers touch (they enrich the soil), mosquitos swarming crazily (it's one hundred degrees!), circling my head like a halo of distrust. It's nature's promise I curse. All those weeks when I prayed for a triumphant birth.
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