Rainforest Tree

The leather laces of the fronds blow against the grey sky. The far window has 12 panes. The curtains are always pulled. The roof is immaculate green. The intensity of green grass. The hedge around my BBQ is already growing back – curling tendrils and expectant, mounted leaves. Only one tree left to be planted – a small, upright rainforest sapling. I rescued it this morning from where I had left it last night, amongst the back weeds. The pot had fallen over and the tree was already drifting into the oblivion of the surrounding skeletal weeds – pitiful, but scarcely seeming to care, slipping into unconsciousness, finding its way beyond the moral necessity to grow. I picked it up and moved it to just outside my back door (until I decide where to put it). It is standing up now, but I know that I only have to look away for a moment – to wander off, for instance, to make coffee – and the pot will fall over. I will never see this happen, but it will occur.