Linda Healy

Seedling - barely started.
There’s good soil.

He leaves; she’s just two or three
and 1 little brother and 2…3…4…5…sixseveneightnineten 
BIG OTHERS, brothers and sisters and barely one mother.
     But there’s good soil.

Nolongerseedling, room to grow, summer sun 
and swimming pools and ferris wheels and campwithoutcares and 
seven sisters onetwothree tending, watering, weeding, watching you grow.
     There’s good soil.

Then, meangirls, a move, uprooted.  
Shake the roots  
Transplant  
Smaller garden bed.  Can of soup, and peaches for 5. No matter.
     There’s good soil.

So. SweetSixteen. Flowering. Growing. A new gardener for mother, 
family again, fallinglikerain, no longer bare: 
breathe in, smell the earth; breathe out, tend the dirt.  
Room to grow. Seeds to sow. Fertilize each row.
SUNWATERWAIT . . . seedlings!
     There’s good soil.	

But weeds & mites & disease creepandcrowdandsteal the Essentials. 
Not once - twice.  
Branches die. Snip. Flowers wither. Snip. 
Dig up mother’sbeautifulplant, rootbound. 
Shake the roots. Break the roots.
Replant.  Reach for sun.  Wait for rain. Repeat.  
     But there’s not good soil.
                                                   So . . . change the soil.
Uproot. Break, bathe the roots.
Replant . . . alone? Undaunted. Prune . . . add the Essentials and . . .
Room to grow. Seeds to sow. Fertilize each row.
Breathe in, smell the earth; breathe out, tend the dirt. 
     SUNWATERWAIT . . . .REPEAT.
     SUNWATERWAIT . . . baby leaves redtippedgreen, 
NOT just 1 ~ but 2…3…4…5…sixseveneightnineten…11, twelve others, brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers.
     
There’s good soil.