The Aralia
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The Aralia

 Les Melton
 Les Melton
The Aralia
by Les Melton  FollowFollow
Lester Melton lives and writes in Oregon. He resides with his wife and her cat. He loves them both though the cat is ambivalent about more Writing poems is his attempt to rehabilitate his soul after years spent among several tribes of Philistines.
The Aralia
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Work day sweat, aggravation
and at last exultation
when you planted me here by this fence
in the corner shade to be your green marker 
bedded in shelter where for a decade I spread myself 
over the buried survey stone and waited 
to grow a pistil and you become a bee.

Yellow leaves drifted down my stalk, 
frolicked in dirt to wither and compost.

When I stretched my topmost fans above the dog ears 
I opened myself alive to heat, sun and moon.

Through thick broad blades I see summer,
the time I dry crisp and brown, and in that season
I am aralia and must hide because I am not fir, 
or birch or even red bud, because I know 
small life grows at my feet 
in the damp dark earth beneath me.


  4 months ago
really like this, something primordial going on

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