a stain spreads down a crumbling plaster face,
along a brick-filled crack. the growth began
when outflow from a plastic gutter ran
its trickling course, eroding paint in places,
and micro-forest followed, fertile base
for tiny, twining vines and sprouts. unplanned,
unwanted, this small jungle’s narrow span
ends where the wall meets sidewalk’s grey embrace,
in moss fluorescing just above a drain.
from spots of mold around a plastic pipe
a miniature hanging garden bloomed,
fed by euphrates-rivulets of rain.
the early evening air is heavy, ripe;
a distant rumble promises monsoon.
words and photo by me.
“108 sonnets” available at http://bit.ly/108_sonnets.