Tree grafting notes
After the tools have been sterilized,
the patch cut and grafted, it sleeps for a year: a spring,
summer, fall and winter
of dormant green piece of orange tree.
That second spring, something has stirred
behind the cell walls of the patch graft
and if you look (rocklike, plantlike, long and slow)
you can watch:
a spindly spider’s leg of plant
creeps its way into life
and sprouts knobbly buds, which flower and fruit,
and suddenly the cedar is an orange.
So you pick the orange
and think about change.
The key is patience. My tree graft instructor
got tired of waiting and cut the donor branch
too early, then lamented: this is not how
these things should be done.
I’ll stay a little longer
under these soft blankets.
It’s early spring,
and my surgical drains are still in.
Ag (he/him/his) is a librarian from Baltimore. His work has appeared in Variety Pack. He can be found on Twitter at @agfrombaltimore