HARVEST. Spring 2020 | Page 12

thaw Naomi Kim sap still stirs within roots curled deep into dirt like fingers scraping at bedrock clinging to the thin winter-starved branches are droplets of water like pearls lined on a bracelet: God’s gift to this gray rainy day awake me, O Lord breathe Your light upon my dormant soul, that i may open my eyes, blinking ice from winter-crusted lashes, and like a bulb buried deep, press towards the uppermost layer of soil, which separates earth from heaven. Naomi Kim is a junior concentrating in English. HOPE, Ciprian Buzilla PhD '21 12 Spring 2020