handle with care

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.


I take extra care when watering my plants. I mean, they’re the wild ones in this relationship. Meant for the earthworm fingers of soil and the mercury in the atmosphere during a thunderstorm. So I picture myself planted in the forest and how lucky I would feel to be blooming right then. Right when I was thirsty. Right when I was awake. Right when I was thriving. And I turn the water on, softly, a coolwarm stream of respite. I sprinkle her leaves, not at all careful of where the runoff goes, letting her reach for more: 

For more of me.

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