The Pot 

Yesterday early morning,

You broke my old friend.

Do not let it worry you,

For a pot, there is no end.

Plants live and then they die,

But pots go on forever.

A place for roots to grow,

Enjoying all kinds of weather.

We love the attention you give,

Always here to lend a hand.

Moving us about the ground,

Or high upon a stand.

The plants know their place,

In a pot they will grow.

Sometimes very fast,

But mostly pretty slow.

So prune those plants,

And talk to them and see.

For a plant to have a home,

They must reside inside of me.

Conan Tigard

September 2002