poem A.

I've been sitting in a glass jar by the window.
The sun has been hitting me, it has been warm.
My roots extend like fingers into water.
I am ready to be planted into you.
I cannot grow without your soil.
This glowing place, this clear water is not enough.
How will my leaves grow, how will I blossom?
Your soil is rich and deep and I am ready to sink into you.
I have no legs to move, I cannot crawl out.
Only these fingery roots which reach down
drinking up the retainer of my life.
All the while my dream is to spread myself
inside your earth and
let these roots pierce your reality.
This glass is now in your hands,
your hands can pour away the liquid
until our branches intertwine
and our vine stretches up into the light
drunk with the possibility of its own wine...