The plant by the window has grown again. A spider plant
with leaves stretching out, exploding in every direction.
It grows every time I turn my back. Silent & slow while I sleep.
While I watch tv. Cook dinner. Every time I turn around, it has grown,
new shoots appearing that were never there before. Sometimes
But yet, it grows. It has to. Too slow to see but still alarmingly fast.
The plant in its small red pot didn’t exist six months ago and here it is,
growing silently on its perch in the corner, drunk on water and meager
glimpses of winter sun. I wonder what it’s growing
it’s reaching up to kiss. It shares this space with me. The
Last week, I killed my aloe plant. Fed it too much water and it died.
It sat softly on my table for a year. Growing when no one was looking,
shy & unassuming. I was only trying to pay it some extra attention,
some extra love. Do you think it knew? Do you think it knew it was love?