Holy mother of God this was so bloody difficult. It doesn’t make any sense but I hate writing in forms. It’s never been something I’ve been any good at but sod it, I had to kick the habit of a lifetime and actually attempt it so here is, without a doubt, the world’s worst Tritina:
Seeds sit dormant in the earth,
planted by aged and calloused hands
that clasp together to pray in the dark.
There is a danger to this dark –
the shifting expanse of cloying earth;
the tree roots reaching out like hands.
This is where we, love, press our hands
together – as we make our friction in the dark,
in the forest; in the mulching earth.
Fertilise the dark, feel earth between our hands.