plaque by the door reads, “CRETUM ET FLORERE“
one step inside et you taste the air
fills your lungs, clouds of flora fragrance
sticks to your teeth, a gummy residue
with every step, senses flooded again et again
hues, humidity, humongous leaves et flowers et vines etc
ground, sticky with sweet perfume
et aromatic resin
et sour fertilizer
still, such a beautiful sight
plants in rows, reach the heights
shine down, light of sun et moon
flowers, sing your songs
oxygen pours from pores
et pollen blankets the tables et floors
petals glow with sweet elegance
et leaves, so green, stand tall et proud
roots wiggle before your eyes
et to your surprise, trees begin to dance et sway
motion, unity, harmony in the greenhouse
every plant has its place et joins in the song
they sing along
“Florere, Florere,
Anima mea
Florere, Florere
Anima aeterna…”
but off in the corner you see it soon
squished et squat
little weed with dried out roots
reaching for rest
crouch down
look him in his eyes
see the husk he has become
from there tables are impossible plateaus
flowers seem like flare stacks
trees billow smoke
perfume hangs like smog
fertilizer smothers
sunlight smolders
little weed struggles, stretches, strives, stresses
trying, surviving, choking on greenhouses gases
perhaps little weed belongs somewhere else
et perhaps greenhouse green is not for all
“Florere, Florere,
Anima mea
Florere, Florere
Anima aeterna…”
song fills space et time
et bursts through cracks et crevices
outside, feel the cool of day,
clover et daisies
et blades et weeds
sing the song so sweetly
for the song cannot be constained
it echoes et flows from every which where
to every which where et back again
but now the very fields break from song
et call out to little weed
“brother, come beyond the panes
come plant yourself along the plains
leave that space, move beyond
et find your place et love your space
come, little brother, et sing again”
.
“florere, florere,
anima mea
florere, florere
anima aeterna…”
.