Broken Promises to Plants
Oh Ficus,
we breathe the same air you and I,
I yours and you mine.
I have moved you, and me,
countless times, and you are disgruntled.
It hurts your fragile temperament, all these changes
in temperature and altitude.
You yearn for stability and balance.
Big windows, good lighting
(natural of course)
and no drafts. So do I.
You are unbalanced and sticky, sickly.
Too wet, too dry, too many leaves lost before
I, could save you, but I never could kill those damn scales.
(or that yeast, for that matter).
We need a good cleansing.
Maybe a re-potting? Let our roots loosen and shake
all the rotting soil we've simmered in.
We have grown too big for our pot.
We need to find fresh soil to settle into.
Somewhere where we can grow
together.
I promise to tend you in a garden,
someday.
I love this promise to the the self through the '...unbalanced and sticky, sickly. /Too wet, too dry, too many leaves lost...' of the plant. Great stuff! :)
LOVE this, all of it.