Seed Bank

It was all weeds
To those with plows—
Weeds that would spring
Back, spring on spring.

Cut them all down
Or rip them all
Out, out and out,
And more would grow.

That’s how you learned
How seeds could last
Years in the dark—
Dry years—to wait.

Here’s a seed bank,
All scrub and weeds.
We sense time’s dry
And not for us,

Yet.