Botanical research has revealed that plants are capable of reacting to a broad range of stimuli, including chemicals, gravity, light, moisture, infections, temperature, oxygen and carbon dioxide concentrations, parasite infestation, disease, physical disruption, sound, and touch.  But what about thoughts?  Maybe if thoughts are turned into sound?  Wouldn’t it be great if under SOUND was a dictionary!  Then I could really talk to my plants, which bloom in a sunny corner of my bedroom.   (At that point, imagining creeps in, that bottomless state where grand icebergs nestle among majestic clouds.)

Two plants in my bedroom appear determined to survive me:

TO MY TWO

I see you morning and night–often

twice during the night, my dear popinjays.

(Popinjays sounds affectionate, but

apparently that word selection

is in error.)  You head for the light,

which is right, in all situations.

No tantrums; no runny nose–rather

an exemplary example of

evolution’s creation, doing

your  best while counting  upon the less

dependable me that I see in

the mirror of my  focus-impaired

human brain.  I reckon we should have

called it quits before igniting our

planet. You would be outside in the

fresh air and I would be just a dream.

But by whom?  As they said at my old

school: Who, What, When, Where, and How?

But please–don’t let me interrupt

your blooming. 

Nan