The can rests cold on pine shelf
Iron throat worn thin itself
Steam curls slow from copper spout
Kettle breathes its song right out
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within
Latin names bloom on her tongue
Patience grows where seeds are sprung
She lifts it slow with calloused grip
Fingers trace the oxidized slip
Monstera drinks in measured sips
Green veins swell in quiet dips
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within
Latin names bloom on her tongue
Patience grows where seeds are sprung
Ficus elastica turns her leaves
Toward the steam that morning weaves
Roots remember what soil believes
Life persists in what it receives
The kettle clicks its thermostat
Heat retreats where steam was at
She sets the can on ceramic mat
Tomorrow's water waits for that
Calathea folds its painted hands
Night withdraws its quiet demands
Morning light on iron stands
Rusted spout in gentle hands
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within
Latin names bloom on her tongue
Patience grows where seeds are sprung
Sansevieria guards the door
Soil dark and rich at core
She speaks the names she knows by heart
Botanist and living art
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within
Latin names bloom on her tongue
Patience grows where seeds are sprung
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within
Rusted spout traces the rim
Water finds the root within