Come autumn, we bury them scrunched and coiled
by Michelle Quevedo
Come autumn, we bury them scrunched and coiled
Not deeply lest they forget to live
After sleeping in beds tucked in the soil
Claws pointed upward primed for the light
There in the dark and the damp of kingdoms
Of microbes and worms, of well-meaning mites
They remembered and lived, reaching, unfurled
There in a kingdom of unwavering deeds
We planted hope coiled and sowed some joy
There in the weariness and unbelief
They reached and hoped, and joy was freed.
Michelle lives amongst the orchards and vineyards of Oregon with her outstanding husband and precious baby, holding her hopes and releasing her fears.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy