The Plant

In the lawn after rain, it shows the blessing of water, drenching roots. I stare at golden sunlight, a myriad of spirits invited, fluttering against fleeting mind. Come closer, the plant entreats, daring daylight, reminding of a pale-green body, at daylight we remain hidden, into the resonance of flight while another rain dims away, holding our nature, rather foundational levels of view, that we discover earth’s clinking heartbeat, and the rawness of sky.

Life, as we are now gathered, must catch in its breeze, or perhaps we should remain locked, to what we’d outlined, so consider anew like roots, unseen as our concern, said or left unvoiced.

• Marianne Moore