Planted

"Banana Plant in a Sea of Tropical Flowers"
by Ruth Daniels, ink and watercolor
http://ruthidaniels.com/

There is a kind of bush, a vine, gnarled
tangle of green leaves and woody arms and legs
with sap so thick that when a sapling's grafted
on, it shares enough to let it live but not to thrive.
The roots go deep, some say as far as heaven,
others would say hell, but it is almost indestructible.
Chop off huge amounts of growth, it shoots out
runners under asphalt, buckles sidewalks, chokes
the vigor from the trees it wraps around but it
survives. The fruit it bears is ample, good for
strength in famine, but its bitterness is an acquired
taste. It's necessary, I suppose, but I am partial
to less vigorous invasives that bring shade but do
not block out sunlight altogether, whose flower is
beautiful and fragrant, and whose fruit is sweet. When
breezes come to stir its leaves, it speaks low soothing
tones and if a plant can laugh, it laughs beneath the
moon. The roots may be more fragile, shallow
until time has led them to explore and find the deepest
unseen waters, but to tend it is an act of love.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015