Plant Life

CAUTIOUSLY, and with a natural grace, a

Wiry tendril was projected from the lower

Depths of a light-green succulent and

Offered itself to an awakening dawn. Within

The space of several hours, the clenched

Bud that it bore aloft like priceless treasure

Erupted into life and tiny yellow petals - as

Thin and delicate as crinkled leaves of ancient

Parchment - began to unfold like benevolent

Fingers on a welcoming hand and allowed

The gentle sunlight to thrust undulating waves

Of divine energy into the secret confines of the

Flower's concealed womb amid an immaculate

Thunder-strike of unblemished conception.

The mystical will of the Absolute had ridden to

Earth on the flaming coat-tails of a penetrative

Solar flare and the seeds of potentiality would

Soon be scattered to the four winds like pearls

Before swine. Two days later and the plant's

Single tendril, now beginning to thicken like

Precocious bark wrapped around a miniature

Tree-trunk, was quietly teeming with aphids;

Each clinging to its rough surface like blackened

Dewdrops and languishing in their newfound

Glory like newly-arrived Janissaries huddled

Beneath the inconsolable dome of the Hagia

Sophia. As the days turned into weeks and the

Summer heat caused the solitary tendril to

Slowly wilt, its former rigidity declining like the

Hunched figure of an irreversibly aging man,

This once-proud phallus relinquished its former

Power and quickly degenerated amid the

Inevitable flaccidity of decay. The insects, risking

Exposure and realising that their position was no

Longer tenable, scrambled down the arched

Stem and eagerly disappeared beneath the thick

Leaves of the succulent in order to feast upon its

Fleshy underbelly with undisguised glee. That

Which was extended beyond the confines of the

Plant's own borders in the form of an exploratory

Flower, a colonial tentacle grasping at the empty

Air like a drowning sailor, had thus acted as a

Dangerous beacon for the silently swarming

Enemies of life itself. Nature's tragic metaphor

Complete, the invaders had entered the citadel

And were happily planning its demise. This, I

Observed from my window like Time's own

Sentinel.

© Troy Southgate