TWO POEMS TO MY PLANTS

I
Life at my windows, luxuriant,
  pressing through green veins
  into leaves full and turgid,
     pressing with irresistible force,
         a wild and inexorable
                 surging,
         with no reason, save  
          a willing to life,
              and on and on....

II
Plants on the shelf,
   brothers and sisters of the root
   -- do they draw comfort
         from leaves intermingled?
Does the tidy jade mind
   the spider's dischevelled
      hair, tossed here and there?
Can they be indifferent,
  truely,
     or oblivious,
to their deep collective process?

1975



All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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