We lie in a barren land
Waiting for her,
Awaiting her touch,
Which would break our shells.
Protected against the flying
And crawling demons
And carefully laid,
We awaited her.
But she did not come.
There were millions hungry
And awaiting us.
There were prayers and pledges
For their blood was on us.
Then she came,
Her pristine tears
Breaking our shells.
We unfurled and blossomed.
What are we?
A farmer’s delight?