A bed of cat-tails.
Like these thoughts I have, each one
is solitary,
a stalk all its own.
I try and remove just one,
yet as I'm pulling,
notice that under
this mud in which they're growing
they are connected,
none of them alone.
A net of roots and rammets
from a single seed...
I thought I had found
a dozen individual
expressions of life-
but really what grew
had seven hundred fingers
reaching from the earth;
simple expression
of one seed sprouting just right.
These wetlands are full.
The roots that are deep
provide structure and, during
the barren fortnights
they keep me alive:
packages of sustenance
hiding underground.
