Little red berries are
the crop of this stump tree.
They are the prize stubble
where little growth is come.
A transplant of hair after
a serious illness
or after fire ravages
the body's wilderness
is that first sip of broth taken.
Little by little, they bring cautious
hope that more will
stumble into other pocket crevices,
the bits of life amidst the spores of stillness.