ode to my weary plants
 
your roots still tangled
in those flimsy plastic containers i found you in
brave and scraggly companions
traveling with a crazy woman
from this temporary place to that
like refugees
not easy for an unsettled poinsettia
a tiny rose
the day will come

your roots will take grip
in deep dark soil
amongst neighborly trees and grasses
and you will not topple
but reach noble and steady
toward the sun