I lost a seed that was given me
to plant in my springtime garden.
I let it fall through thin space
onto a dark and ordinary place
away from light or the need to find.

I did not plant it straightaway
when bright was the sun
and fertile the ground.
Only in hasty scribble penned:
“Write about a lost seed.”

Today I found my hasty scribble
had turned to dry husk
bearing neither flower nor fruit
from that moment it came to me:
“Write about a lost seed.”

Portland, Oregon – March 30, 2020