Fallen from a box of pottery

Ridiculous freebie

From the tip of my finger to

The curve of my palm

I scoffed

Bound with your sister rake

A seedling tool and thin tweezer

What am I?

A farmer of houseplants, no

Moving from dead and shriveled

To verdant plump

Unexpected blooms like fireworks

Pale chartreuse, soft grey greens, emeralds

Lining every window sill

I reach for tools

Learning how to grow

Moving from pot to pot

Water pools on mismatched saucers

Translucent windows, savage spikes

Strings of things

Lifted planted repotted

Sand through my unsure fingers flow

You are always at hand

A part of my daily

Tucked in my overalls

Stashed in my back pocket

Stoic sansverias, a bashful fern, begonias wink

I am a farmer

Stillness is a crop, quiet I sow


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