is it too late,

to be just a seed,

a droplet so swinging from hope?


is it too late,

to follow new leads,

that don't hang from well-tangled ropes?


I teeter towards 'no',

while adjusting the flow,

in spite of 'anger o'er no sense of cope'.


so plant me today,

and regress, in a way,

that turns blue,

to green,

to growth.