My hands ache to be making something of value.

Sweet arias sound just beyond comprehension,

vivid colors blink in and out of focus,

you, even, at times untouchable, me too hesitant to try to reach

past doubt, past insecurity.

Still, I will remain here, rooted yet waiting

to be dug from the confines of dirt, sand

and earthworm's slimy trace against my toes.