We’re not pansies like some flora.
In a red clay maceta or rusted coffee can
with a hole punched through, and forgetful
watering dama tilting a bucket or spout,
we survive.  We plump into obesities and thin
and glow aqua-rose while namby-pamby
daisies die into dry dust and seed, chaff
for a compost heap. Tear a leaf from us
and it’ll clone into new angles of rosettes
and spikes.  We heal, now a stalk,
now a cascading pastiche of pastels.
They throw us out on a dead grass yard
and next thing we are a patch,
every green leaf garnet-edged red.
We don’t need no stinkin’ rain,
no soil enhancements, no hoe,
no chatter about How’s my little plant
today?  Although, serenades don’t hurt.
La Cucaracha at midnight, La Bamba at noon,
some Mexican Karaoke between two
and four under stars and moon.
We’re not saying we’d wilt without it.
Just saying, from a succulent’s point of view,
a little oom-pah tuba and accordion
never hurts.

Wonderfully cocky. Striking how you make the thing evoke a place and at the same time anchor place to these marvelous plants.

Quite nice,

larry

tough guys who only need their dose of sentiment, I like them, Lynn! Tom

I had a little fun with this.  I'm glad the cocky is wonderful, larry!  Thanks, muchos thanks!

Tom, I tell you, they've got to be tough to survive my habits!  Glad you like them!

I like these succulent plants who survive, make worst into best and find their own worth and flaunt it. Just like some women I know.  Real, real good.

Lynn, really enjoyed the voice within this! Very fun poem

enjoy the attitude in this write. 
enjoyed the vibe of this one.

tiko

casey, tiko -- I think the voice and the attitude came inside with me to my keyboard by way of the crescents of dirt under my fingernails from repotting and rearranging these lovelies.  Thanks guys!

lavonne -- yes.  they remind me not only of one Rumor flower, but also of Rumor itself.  Thanks for looking.

ld

Love this, Lynn. And it reminds me of someone who had a collection of a fascinating variety of succulents that they call in South Africa the 'living stones'. They looked just like pebbles - until they flowered.

milner

ah, now that's a poem in itself, milner.
always pleased when one of efforts works for you, friend.  thanks.

lynn

Lynn, this jerked a tear from me, not sure why.  I think I love the survivalist mode, and the healing, etc. you mention.  Just really touched me, although I realize others thought it was 'cocky', it was strong and tender to me, both at the same time.  Lovely.

cheryl

cheryl -- thank you.  what you've noted is not where i started this poem, but a sense that i had about it by the time it had written itself.  glad you've found what you have in this one.

ld

just finding this one, Lady - delightful!  M

Lynn,

Just sayin' I love this one.

Rick

Glad you found and glad you liked this, michelle.

And Rick, Thanks!

lynn