TALKING TO THE PLANTS

Six years since I asked you to live

here

and all through you’ve made the best

of cross-currents and cold salt air

despite winters when

I half expect to see your breath.


Six months on from last year’s summer

then

and the short days have stretched

but now this slowing, closing in

despite warm days when

I never expect the coldness of death.


Pot-bound,

your roots wrapped round

into hardened matted entrails

or 

The 

World’s 

Longest 

Fingernails

now carefully

teased 

out

free

ready for more space

crock, compost, water, shade.

Then I’ll settle in too, on the ground

with you, waiting

until: struck with a stick, 

the terracotta makes a ringing sound

calling for more water.

 

+(0)7707 051852

Hastings, East Sussex, UK

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© 2020 by Pip Rowson. All images © Lee Shearman and Pip Rowson.