(Not) A Poem a Day: The Clematis
The poor thing,
she needed to be moved.
In my absence
she was transplanted–
to a wind-buffeted southwest corner.
Staked and sturdied and twined,
tiny tendrils grasped for anything.
And so I found her
and loosened what held her upright.
She fell forward–
so oddly yet almost instinctively
like a child upon my shoulder.
“Oh, sweet plant!
I’m here to help you.”
And she rested there
and I thought I heard