Virgin Flora

Peeling bark and weathered twisted limb,
a climb where winter’s reckoning laid behind.
When soil has opened from its thaw
earth’s ripe for impregnation again.
Scent hangs languid with longing,
a wellspring of desire to be plowed,
sowed, and soaked with new offering.
Gifts from hands of humanity, I cultivate
terra firma, bestow my pneuma imprint
on nature’s canvas. This—the season
of my soul, the room of psyche,
the presence of spirit, unseen life from
behind the veil. Here in nature’s womb
I am reborn, renewed.

© Grace Black

Poetry Month continues, and this is Day 12 of NaPoWriMo for me.

30 poems in 30 days. Do you dabble in word play as well? Let’s create 30 in 30.

Love and Ink,



  1. loved this one! the theme of rebirth is one I’m always drawn to. our lives are a constant dying and rebirth. each season is useful, including the fallow times. great poem!

  2. I especially like the line, “the room of Psyche,/the presence of spirit.” Very similar and complimentary sounds.

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