just one sleep in my own bed away
from the 9-day fire evacuation
to the city hotel
I ache to ground myself here
planting as symbol
a cutting from a jade plant
rootless
into the dry soil of a neglected flowerpot
I want to plant my feet
ankle deep into my garden
I want them to grow roots
this pandemic
with its fear of and in the air between us
and the droplets it contains
boosts my love affair with the earth
the forced though temporary
homelessness
pushes my yearning for roots
I want to eat carrots and potatoes
and even turnips
and believe it or not parsnips
and lean my back against
the overburdened pear tree’s trunk
and sink my teeth into the pear’s juices
running down my chin
and falling like my tears of relief
onto this piece of ground
I call home
Vilma Ginzberg 10-7-2020
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