Planting season

The saying “Bloom where
you’re planted” served
her well for years

She put down roots,
Pale green sprouts stretched tall
Tiny buds formed, eager to unfurl
She wanted to grow, grow, grow

Lately she’s been wondering,
Can I still bloom
when the climate changes?
Or if the garden grows too crowded?
What if there are toxins in the ground?

What if there’s another place
with richer soil
more space
and a more temperate climate?

Few perennials dare uproot
themselves
Some wither
Some are crushed
She’s always had trouble letting go

Time ticks by — the hour is late
Too long she’s blamed herself
for failing to thrive in poor conditions
She will look upon herself with love
Call herself precious

She’ll be more careful this time
She’ll stick her hands in the dirt and plant
herself where she can bloom
Trust the Master Gardener
Turn her face towards the sun