Jack
of the Green
Green
Jack dances in the tilted meadow
when
darkness falls.
The
windows overhead are blocked,
but
the sun is shining on fields of flowers
on
the other side of the river.
How
he got there no one knows.
Perhaps
he stowed away wrapped around a lily bulb,
pressed
between the pages of a treasured scrapbook,
or
in a packet of carrot seeds brought
from
the old country by a small child.
Since
he came, the plants are thriving,
which
formerly languished in their new home,
the
stalks are taller, more sturdy, the
flowers
bigger and the colors brighter,
In
Lagrangia now that Jack is here.
