The determined jade plant grows
past its tiny pot.
Thick waxy leaves
reach downward –
arching stems droop
like a weeping willow’s
silk strung silhouette, yet
with so much flesh from
so little moisture in its form.
Leaning on a plain white wall
beneath a southern window,
dance-like long-limbed shadows
double its true mass,
hint at fluid movement.
The shiny green top-heavy succulent
defies thinning laws of gravity,
daring the round terracotta limits
to hold still whatever passes
for jade feet, all ready to step out
and find more suitable
accommodations.
3 comments:
For me most of this lies in the last three lines...
Yeah, I may cut out the bulk of the middle stanzas. I was falling asleep as I wrote it.
:) You sleep write incredibly well, may I say....
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