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.