Meanwhile, Melody Muses…

The Seed, discarded by a bird, found niche in rough-hewn brick;

Alone, despised, forsaken, her tears made footing stick

As softened by the salty stream, one root-tip found a home;

Cinder was Seed’s resting place, and mortar her first loam.

Root fought hard to worm her path through nerves of stone-work steel;

Rain’s torrential fists repelled with blows that made her reel.

Wind and sun both joined the feud, assaulting her in turn;

One tried to wrench Root’s tender growth, one sought to levy burn,

But Root resisted, holding fast, and sent up her first Shoot;

Shoot bore Stem, and Stem bore Leaf, in fair green birthday suit.

Mortar lent no healthy fare, so Leaf produced her own;

Photosynthesizing bread, to add green flesh to bone.

Now she boldly clings to brick, when rain makes mortar mud;

She knows that next in line to come is tender flower-bud…