the stem dries through summer goes rigid with waiting bends but holds
wind bends it further past what holds releases
flung not choosing where no wing no plume just out and down
most strike stone lie there rain finds them dry cracks them open to nothing
some catch dirt split themselves green by noon leaning toward whatever light brown and curling by dusk
a few dig past surface find water drink deep grow days into weeks tangle with what grows near pull loose when the ground shifts
one threads down past rock past the dry seasons finds the aquifer the water that doesn’t leave
winters springs winters again holds
blooms late heavy with what it learned
dries goes rigid waits for wind