Seed

I cast the star seed
on  darkened soil,
with silent incantation.

Belief is watered and

broken to green, then

called to life, by the light
of a dying star.

With fearsome predetermined symmetry, 
from frost to fern,
they all grow,

but why a star should feel
the need to do all this, 
none of us will ever know.

                                                                   © niall oconnor 2015