No one called today, nor cared
To call tomorrow, so the planting began
As it always does…
A seed soaked in water
When sunlight filtered in
Through fern boughs spotted
With spores,
Hibernation began to breathe
New life; the seed sprouted
White roots in search of
Soil
Dirt, bark brown earthen
Furrows of forgotten time
Harbor seedlings without
Jealousy for spent nutrients—
Like good parents,
Sensible teachers,
God must be
And the plant grows
And someone sees it among the
Strawberries because Spring
Arrived, and he left his house
Without calling
And he decides to pull the plant
From its anchored homeland
Because, it’s a weed, after all,
With its spikey leaves and purple
Thistle adorning its strange
Presentment
And she still waited for the phone
Instead of forwarding the calls
Or finding an audience or
Dialing her number herself
Or planting that seed.
Because easier beat out
Proper in the garden of
Popular opinion.
