Holding this blueberry

in my hand, I do not know

where it came from

or how it will grow.

The ground is too shallow

here, stained with saltwater

and filled with debris. Skree

is really all it is, no place

for this tiny thing to root.

I must be delicate,

otherwise its blue will leave

a mark on my palm

that may be hard to remove.

I shuffle rocks, slate and shell

until I find soil. My nails have

collected the earth. My skin

tightens from the drying soil,

but I dig a place

for this tiny specimen

and wait for next spring.