spontaneous

stubborn miracles, like this
city garden, alive in spite of the vicious, jettisoned dirt
of its neighboring pedestrians, who toss dead cigarettes
and flimsy drugstore plastic wrap as if these
were the real harbingers of fertility.

the garden forgives these clumsy theatrics,
and survives well beyond its expected lifetime,
even into the thick of december.

i wonder, somehow, if winter
brings out the best in everything.
the cold silencing, even briefly,
our hot and radical blood.
ice sheeting our windows to distort the terrible view.
some storm passing through long enough
to cover our bodies in a wash of spectacular clarity.

and for the garden, something of an anointing,
a dare, a push to extremes.

can you survive this?
can you survive this?

some unusually warm night,
a spontaneous flash of adventure
electrifies the earth,
and the garden just says yes,
I can.