poem

there is a scragginess about cattails - a feeling that there is no time to Spring strong, stark, before emerging seed takes over like an explosion of fluff everywhere about the rank weeds in the ditches and slurries of the roadsides gone wild with plants we spray-down for fire jumping -across-roads not if we can help it...

this plant once gave flutes and asparagus-like green food and fluff for bark cradles to absorb baby pee and so on, and woven mats and ancient medicines for all sorts of ailments. we don’t use them that way, anymore, I reckon...

sometimes, I’ve run my hand over the brown fur of the outer side of the multitudes of seed-hopes inside, wondering at the real feel of cat tail in this so common and rambunctious plant. 

sometimes, I’ve given thanks, without knowing why, for it’s be omnipresent and ubiquitously distributed, like bacteria, still, in the urban and rural wildernesses: still hedge-rowing our concrete and our straight and unsightly roads to nowhere, along with the beautiful roads, still left, to somewhere really beautiful....

you will go the ways of all life now on this old earth: matter-play is going on like crazy: evolutions gone awry and hurried extinctions moving apace with the growth spurts going berserk among the human race - and even ocean waters growing perturbed beyond recognition...

remnant of what was among us: grow on! where I see you still, I honor you for tenacity I cannot comprehend. you are more brave than I...less likely to pretend....