#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Am I a native plant too, raised in these woods
if my parents moved me here
at three months old
Under dry sticks green leaves sharp brambles
turtlehead grows, I step past, quickly return
she notices, whispers my name
bend and belong to rocky narrows.
One September at four I started school indoors
in a classroom I crouched, hid to be invisible
from the terror of crowding expectations.
I have never learned to be ablaze in crowds.
I bloom where you step quiet, look twice
bend your head toward mine