I’m growing a cactus to tend to my heart.
It’s prickly and stickly and squat and cute, a bit like me.
We’re going to grow together, with water and sunshine and songs about the sky.
My cactus and I.
They say plants are healing and I believe it.
I’ve seen it!
Nothing more peaceful than a prickly green thing.
I’ll watch it and care from a distance, maybe I’ll even sing.
My sharp arcadia.
My green mañana.
My dewy paradise.
It’s a hot summer ahead, and we’ll do just fine.