by Elizabeth Ehrich
The geranium plant I rescued
from the garden last fall
turns its leaves toward the sun,
presses them against the glass pane
and feeds on the light
as I sit at the kitchen table.
I attempt to deconstruct an origami crane
my daughter sent me as a present
along with loose tea and dark chocolate.
She knows my tastes.
Yet, this paper bird puzzles me
as I try to unfold it, understand its intricacy.
I can see where she has creased
the paper between thumb nail and index finger,
shaped from a glossy page,
taken from a castaway catalogue.
Each wing displays a floral pattern
while the head and tail show just
a white triangle, the body teal.
To return the crane to its
simple origin appears daunting.
I admit defeat and place the origami piece
on the top most branch of the geranium,
settled down in its soft leaves.
Reprinted with permission.