The Old Man Loves To Watch Plants Grow...A Poem
The 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,
unless smitten for no reason
by the hand of god or mindless passerby.
Copyright by Don Gray