“Forsythia?”

“Sprung” © C.P. Hickey 2018

 

 

“Forsythia?”

 

Forsythia?

Forced into view.

Forced into you,

existence through,

budding branches reaching up into the sky.

 

Growing up,

past failed forecasts of blizzards.

Weather wizards.

Meteorologists ceding to botanists.

Seeding pots with this,

packet potential.

 

Weeding rows of ebbing snow,

a hedgerow garden grow,

Ineffable nature.

Permission to engage,

green thumb sage,

but, barometric gauge,

indicates bare landscapes.

 

No escape.

 

Planet raped.

Big mistake.

Heightened stakes.

Corporate snakes.

Only take,

never plant.

 

Planned exhaust.

 

All is lost?

 

Forsythia?

 

Forsythia!