a small mistake
by Royce Wood
pocketed fingers play with seeds,
little dots of to-be-life. i know
the perfect place to plant them:
from a pinprick in the sprinkler hose
a constant mist grows a green oasis
in a dusty parking wasteland,
the lot behind our yard.
mosses and other leafy stems
will be their friends.
not weeds since
they are welcome,
these seeds will grow
up in a safe pocket
of a harsh world.
life clings on.
skyscraper sparrows,
blind albino fish in caves,
mold on the bread.
i do not plant them
for them, but for me.
if they can survive
by a small mistake then
so can i.
but, by another mistake
as small as the first,
the hose has been fixed.
the moss has lost
its green. the weeds are limp.