Ode to My Potted Tropical Plant

Steady on at 36 degrees, the dark holds itself in stillness

ghost frost breathing seas over the glass

in the muted house

Retreating at the snap of the light.

My brave plant there, carried inside last night

Out of reach of the frost killing fingers of the alien American night.

Displaced in its small pot

Like an adventurous cripple in a wheel chair,  

Mobilis in mobili.

 

Under a broad leaf, a tiny green tree frog

Its ancestors brought in by banana boat

Generations past, dayo, dayo, me wanna go home,

Until the lady frogs gentled him into peace.

Does it know there is any other of its kind alive somewhere?

I give you the golden apples of the sun's lost light glide

And the white apples of the moon.

Paled by darkling night, naked, grudging night

forever greened by the light of the lording sky,

that belongs to no one.

Welcome to my kitchen.

Now, you.  Thrive.