Don Gray
Art Essays, Art Criticism & Poems
The Old Man Loves To Watch Plants Grow...A PoemThe old man loves to watch plants grow. He needs to look at them right now. They give him hope. The steady force of life that pushes up the seed brings peace, relief. He sees the growth unfold in telling design. Tall bushes press against his window, where he watches new-sprouting leaves and clustered knobs of yellow buds soon becoming small white flowers. Each day he makes his rounds, inspects the large clay pots in his front yard for signs of growth. Did new green reach the sun? How much have small plants grown since yesterday? He is amazed by a hollyhock transplanted, small, only three inches high, now raging life, filling the pot, grown two feet tall in masses of cupped, green leaves, the stalk not yet appeared that will send it four feet higher. It is rampant, raucous with life, inevitable, light-loving... unless smitten for no reason by the hand of god or mindless passerby. Copyright by Don Gray
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