At Their Feet

These plants on my windowsill
watch me day in and out,
looking about my office, they
track my comings and goings,
sniggering at my sweltering
sense of self-importance.

These plants are close to the earth
and hold the long view, knowing that
instantaneously – in a geological sense – I
will be in the earth feeding their fellows.

These plants also cheer me on, when I
close my laptop and play with the rocks
in the silica-now-glass container on
“my” oak tree-now-desk.

These plants weep when
I fail to taste my apple, when
I forget to thank them, when
I refuse to listen to their call
to pinch myself
alive.

These plants are poets of the first order:
Aloe Vera and Christmas Cactus – and when
I am wise, I sit at their feet, in a manner of speaking.

4 thoughts on “At Their Feet

  1. arlavergne says:

    At first I thought you were in the thrall of Triffids. Now, I am not sure.

  2. shoreacres says:

    I’d not heard of Triffids, either. I see they were created before The Little Shop of Horrors. I wonder if the musical drew on the Triffids?

    The lines “These plants weep when/I fail to taste my apple/when
    I forget to thank them…” brought to mind stories I’ve read of Native Americans giving thanks to the bison before a hunt.

    They also reminded me of a funny-odd spontaneous thing I do whenever I see a squirrel that’s met its Maker lying in the middle of the road. I always apologize to it. I didn’t do that until after I’d had my pet squirrel for several years. It suggests that a closer association with the natural world brings more empathy.

    • agjorgenson says:

      I think your apologizing to the squirrel is an utterly sensible things and of a piece with living life holistically. It simply demonstrates that authentic empathy ventures beyond homo sapiens, a point well know by Indigenous folk around the world.

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