I find myself opening my arms to the sky,
for rain to come, I would surely hope,
an everlasting flow, the ground to swell.

And the ground would grow, puff it's chest,
the sounds of brown sugar crumbling away,
for the first leaves of seeds.

"I am not in the business of growing bare,
my surface to hard to let go.
Instead I want to flourish,
wrapping my leaves in everyone I love and know."