Some days I think this thing might be a green chorus of voices
joined in a silent medley of anguish you can almost see.
Every week there’s more. Or is it somehow on the verge of rejoicing?
Some days the plant is an ideal audience, or sentry,
listening in all directions for even the smallest hint of truth,
or relief. I know it suffers more than a little
too much water sometimes, not enough at others,
but the brown scaly patches are symptomatic of nothing
more than maturity. Despite the uncertainty,
another pair of pale and shiny ears, or mouths,
has sprouted lately. Some days the plant is the perfect gossip,
some days, an arthritic penitent with nothing to confess
but swollen with the need for discussing it anyway.
Some days this guardian at the window
whispering instructions to itself just waits,
succulent and tender as the idea of an undeclared lover.
- Timothy Russell -
庭前看玉樹
The Yeh Tze Journal
(Oct.2, 2024 於那帕谷老家)
葉子(Yeh Tze)
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