The lonely plant is feeling dry again
Its fronds are drooping sadly in the sun
Does it want rain, or does it want a friend?
What does a lonely houseplant do for fun?
Is there a family that it’s longed to see
Since it was rooted up and trucked away?
And does it know how dangerous life can be
Out in the world of predator and prey?
Or is it just fine, thank you very much,
With boring safety in my boring home?
Or does it yearn for freedom, love, and such
An earth where all its roots are free to roam?
With cold and heat, and bugs and birds attacking
And other plants competing for its soil
The pain when random animals come snacking
Or creeping vines come choke it in their coils.
And does it have the sense to understand
The choices that it doesn’t even have?
These silly questions pondered on by man
The existential angst that drives us mad?
Or is it free of struggle and concern
And doesn’t try to do but only be?
And is that something I would want to learn
If all my wanderings never make me free?