The FFA- Growing More than Pigs and Corn

He planted a seed today.

A touch of hands, accidental-like. Hers pulling away, slightly,

he seemingly intent on his notes, the sun, and the soil.

A curious, inspecting glance found his hand still there,

resting easy on the fence rail where they’d touched.

Had the touch been intentional?

She couldn’t know,

but he’d sown the seed.

He would give that seed some room to grow,

give the idea time to germinate.

He would let it lie awhile in the rich loam,

and tomorrow sprinkle it with attention.