The dipladenia idles on
the window ledge
in my office.
Viny branches reach,
curling among the window blinds
and each other
intertwined like unsure hands.
This is its
third winter indoors.
The once lush plant now
drops leaves
turned yellow and spotty.
My husband thinks it is ill
due to a white spider
infestation.
I believe it is homesick
for its tropical environment where
warm temps and lavish water
nourish it daily.
I believe it is dying to be
outside beneath the sun and stars,
visited by mystic hummingbirds who
carry pollen on their
frenetic flights.
I believe it is ill with
impatience to resume the
life it knows.
It is like me.
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