The Old Man Loves To Watch Plants Grow...A Poem



The old man loves to watch plants grow.

He needs to look at them right now.

They give him hope. The steady force

of life that pushes up the seed

brings peace, relief. He sees the growth

unfold in telling design. Tall

bushes press against his window,

where he watches new-sprouting leaves

and clustered knobs of yellow buds

soon becoming small white flowers.


Each day he makes his rounds, inspects

the large clay pots in his front yard

for signs of growth. Did new green reach

the sun? How much have small plants grown

since yesterday? He is amazed

by a hollyhock transplanted,

small, only three inches high, now

raging life, filling the pot, grown

two feet tall in masses of cupped,

green leaves, the stalk not yet appeared

that will send it four feet higher.

It is rampant, raucous with life,

inevitable, light-loving...

unless smitten for no reason

by the hand of god or mindless passerby.



Copyright by Don Gray



Don Gray Art  •  Poems