2 Seeds

Shot from cold metal our seed bounces into clods of earth.

Sharp steel breaks the clods and plants the seeds deep.

“What an experience!” The seed begins to worry.

Rain drops explode around, on and almost through the seed.

“When will this end!” The seed screams.

“I know, Farmer must hate us.” Another seed complains. 

“Otherwise we wouldn’t be mistreated like this.” 

Thunder smashes into the earth. Lightning ascends from ground to clouds. Wind pushes water lower until some seeds start to float. 

One seed is silent through all this. A finger of green pushes out of her skin.

“What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know. This storm had me shaking too.” Minerals released from the soil ride the rainwater into the hearts of the seeds. “Hey you have a tail now too.”

The sun shoves the clouds from the sky and keeps them at bay for days and days. A new energy crowds the soil. This sweet heat is not universally loved. 

“When will this end!” The seed whines. “All this light! I can’t even sleep. And the heat, I can’t stand it. I’m starting to doubt that Farmer has anything to do with us. Why would he put us through such heavy, prickly heat?”

The silent seed’s skin was peeling back, her innards expanding. Worrying seed studied his neighbor. “Are you OK, Silent? You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t know. This energy coursing through me seems enough to tear me apart. It hurts, I won’t kid you, especially when I fight it or wish it to stop. . .. You know your skin is starting to peel a bit Worrying.” He hasn’t noticed. As he reclines into the sun, the pain subsides.

One morning the sunshine is broken by a purring steel tractor tugging a wagon full of crap. Blades fling the sloppy, smelly cargo all over the seeds. Some of them give up. This load of dung is too much. 

Worrying Seed moans, “When will this end?” Yet even as he whimpers these words, he turns to Silent Seed. Large scary arms descend from what is left of her, while one shoot scrambles out of her toward the surface. Worrying Seed is finished and struggles to be free of its place. Something holds him fast.

“What are those things coming out of you?” Worrying Seed yells.

“I’m growing roots. I think its because I’m going to become huge.”

“So what about that, that thing snaking out of your head?”

“Part of me is drawn up and away. It’s where my life is headed, I guess. You are putting out some roots as well, Worrying.”

Day after day this cycle of water, sun and fertilizer frames the seeds’ weeks. The pair appears less and less like their planted selves. Worrying seed still frets, but less and less out loud. Eventually they both are gone, standing unrecognizable. 

And Farmer welcomes them into the world above.