Weekly Challenge #3 -describing the undescribable.

For the Birds

I am the soil. Hummussy black, and soft as hell.  I lie under the vastness of the sky.  The light from the sun warms me.  I am free and without purpose.  One day two shadows fall over me.  Startled I feel the sudden shutter as their silhouettes unite.  From this union I feel an explosion of seeds pelt deep into my yielding surface.  Each freckle begins to burrow, supple wooden fingers penetrate my layers.  The days pass and both shadows continue to return.  They bring with them sensations unknown.  Tiny rivers cascade over me on a day with no rain.  On a new day my body is shaped and coddled by the pliable palms of my visitors.  My scars where the seeds grow are plucked clean of menacing flora and fauna.  Then morning comes and as the sun opens his warm eye on me, I am pulled out of myself.  First I am fearful, but here it is again, and again, until I have pierced the air above me with these pulpy thin hairs.  I have made color, and as the two return I cannot resist the urge to unfurl my newness with unknown ability.  In reverence, the tiny green sprouts that I have made reveal their pliable leaves, and reach up with earnest.  My new-fangled ability to create cannot explain to me why one day I am missing a shadow man.  I continue without him, to dwell on my happiness as these sprouts push into buds.  I am feeling more than I ever thought possible and still one single silhouette dedicates her presence to nurturing what I become.  Then one evening came without a passerby.  No comforting presence between the sun and I.  I waited with my stems standing tall, leaves outstretched as big as hands.  The pistils inside of me burned to get out.  In the eye of the morning I succumbed to the pressure.  Like flames leaping to life the petals spun from my buds.  Twisting and expanding, I opened up for all to see, colors unimaginably vivid. I reached up and out, but alas, no shadows did I see.  Once vacant soil, I had now fulfilled life from the gift they instilled within me. After many days of flourishing, my own flowers gave seed, but still no presence came to witness. Seasons changed and I felt the weight of my spectacle.  I crumbled into myself and held onto what I had created until it was absorbed.  My body hardened and I feared that I might never wake again. But after many months of rest, I softened in the presence of the sun and felt revived enough to start again. The sensations of growth still shook me even as I expected them this time.  And as I lay a righteous garden, wild and beautiful, for the viewing only of passing birds, I thought of them.