The carrots hide
inside seeds,
waiting to make their nest
in the earth.
I am reminded
of the alphabet,
another magic trick,
twenty-six squiggles,
such scrawny tools
for building
whole worlds.
And me,
all grown up,
or perhaps not.
Why should I be?
I am at the beginning of so many things.
I am full with ideas.
I am that burning smell of rain
before the storm,
a promise of something big
yet to come.