Grossula Sport

She rests lazily on the sill

What is there to do, really?

It’s April and sun beats down, but not too hard

Temps are barely 65 and 40s in the pre-dawn

Oh Spring,

Praise to the Maker

But flow and flow and flow some more

IS what she does

But that’s only the flipping branch

Like mama’s hair two score and five ago

The rest of the strands stand erect

They’ve not found their flow

Or their in a flow, but blocked

Pleasing the sun and the roots

Only north and south

Up and down

They dare not live outside the pot

Only the one branch lives outside the interior safe place

She curls up and over and

She is showing a pinkish strand

Is it a flower?

Praise to the Maker

Her budding branches grow faster than all the rest

Even though she is furthest from the core of nutrition and the center of the root

Even flow is not what is seen here

No

It is uneven flow

We are not all in the same flow

Some branches flow in ways they do not know

We do not know

And yet they go and go and go