Waiting
How do they do it? The ones washed ashore.
Who in a broken pile put themselves together?
Who after the hurricane sort the rubble for the nails that still can hold.
Who after being cut dream of stitches. They are the heroes.
The ones who like an old tree grow around anything.
The ones who grow another arm, another leg, another way. And what starts the growing?
Is it the rain on the turtle’s back as she never waivers?
Is it the look of the fox before he disappears in the woods?
At what instant does the break in the bone realize it must join its other half?