your orchid

i am the orchid.

i am the withered, dry stem that most assume dead.

i lay dormant without demand and require the least of your attention.

i am still with observation of light and energy.

i am vulnerably exposed, with open roots and heart.

i am settled in wood chips and rocks.

i reach into the air around you while you dream.

i have smooth leaves, green buds, and silk petals to press upon you.

i am the orchid.

i am not dead.

i am here to surprise you, to remind you that what appears gone is not.


please, ice.  please, wait.