A Poem – “The Green Party”

 

At the edge of the parking lot,

in a crack between pavement and curb,

a seedling.

 

Only about three inches tall, but

I can tell it’s a maple.

 

It will never grow to its full potential, and

may be chopped to the ground

next time the gardener mows.

 

Still,

I appreciate the vitality,

the struggle to be noticed in a place

where everything gets suppressed

between a rock and a hard place.

 

Until then,

there is a seedling.

 

(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)

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