The Botany Project
My son and I pour over the instruction sheet.
The teacher fails to make clear what to gather
and how: a plant from each family, perhaps.
But why list Speedwell, a flower,
then Composite, a family? Why expect a result
so precise and orderly, yet omit the insight?
You live 50 miles away, son.
It feels like an eternity.
Do you eat breakfast? Brush your teeth?
Want help with homework?
Is there enough nurture in a house with
one leg of a parent? Is our family like a
broken table, or is it a new design, an outgrowth
of uncertainties, a consequence of what we
cannot control?
I thought it would be different.
I thought I could plan dinners, pack lunches,
buy clothes, hear about your day, every day.
I thought I would be there when you needed
an answer.
I am only 50 miles away.
It feels like an eternity.
How precious the time we have–
your botany project.
We study pictures in a book,
examining features of each plant.
We search fields, marsh and woods,
looking for new growth: trillium,
jewelweed, wood violets, Indian hemp,
lichen, mushrooms, cattails and buttercups.
Intent we are on each discovery.
Soon aware we are of each family’s difference.
Walking these paths tomorrow
we’ll find the strange, now familiar.
New landmarks bring us comfort.
What looked barren transforms
in the quiet warmth of recognition.
@ Katherine Posselt 2000
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