What's Growing

I opened the cupboard and there it was—

the jar, the one I'd filled with scraps and salt,

with cucumber sliced thin, with vinegar and dill.

The brine was moving.

Actual bubbles rising from the bottom,

suspended in the liquid like tiny

things learning to breathe.

For three weeks I'd left it alone.

Three weeks of it sitting in the dark,

doing its work without me checking,

without me opening it too soon

and ruining everything.

This is what happens when you don't rush.

When you let something be.

The jar is catching light from the kitchen window

and I can see inside it clearly—

transformation happening slowly,

the way it's supposed to.

The way nothing else ever does.