29 September 2009

Resurrection Fern

Sunlight diffused


across the dusty black table.

Golden dust

swirled lazily down.

Soil and spider web coated

pots of aloe and

sharp tongued mother-in-laws.

Aunt stood

the brittle celluloid watering can

in her hand

prepared to feed the dry ones.

I sat on the front porch swing

finishing orange sherbet

before coming over

to stand.

She held a plastic lid.

Would you like to see the resurrection fern?”

I had seen it a million times before.

But it would be hours

before Mom would come.

We could bring the dry and brown

to life ever so slowly again.

Awkward baptism

of tendrils tightly bound.

Momentarily fresh again.

We stared so hard

waiting for the sweet surprise.

Just like Jesus rising from the dead.”

Finding the rolling drops

pooled along the

farthest recesses of its reach.

I turned back to recite

my Bible verses

and dig for snails.

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