Here are limbs so distant

Here cries the swallow to the sky

An echo bounces from the instant

To wallow and die

In my ear

In my wet bright eye

Grounded in rocky turf

A seed thrown without design

It bounces to its fated birth

In a blown and burned out mind

And yet It climbs

It clings and It twines

The gift of will and tenacity

Not in spite

But in creative collaboration

With my ill suited capacity

And the dry dirt of my imagination

It'll grow in the rock

If it’s all I've got

It will reach the sky

And thrive

In my ear

And my wet bright eye

written by my friend, Bette