A seedling so determined to grow
It came back from desiccation
Once, and again, and a third time.

In the fall I carefully cushioned it
Against the winter
With leaf mulch
And fashioned a little cage
Out of chicken wire scraps
Then marked it with a branch
stuck upright in the soil.

Two days ago, someone
Crushed the cage,
The shape of their boot
Imprinted on the delicate wire,
The marker stick flung aside.
When I went to move the ruined pieces,
There it was
That tiny seedling
With brand new leaves.

Plague Series, #6. I may come back to this and work it into a sonnet.

One thought on “Survivor

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