My Prayer Plant
(Maranta leuconeura)
by Jeannie E. Roberts

   "Hear blessings dropping their blossoms around you."
–Rumi, as interpreted by Coleman Barks

After a dozen blooms
I lost count. As if trumpets
tiny petaled notes
only I could hear
slipped into song.
Solos came first
then duets, trios followed
where I imagined the calm
of rurality, the flow
of field grass, its pastoral
greens, the cheer of barnwood
reds, the hope of crops
and flaxen stalks of unity.
I heard the whir of mourning
doves, the whistle of cardinals
too, as my maranta gramophones
dropped tunes around the room.
As the melodies continued
the deafness in my right ear
caught an echo from my left
waves of gratitude perched
inside my chest. Left and right
buds opened, fragile manifests
of prayer, trumpet-shaped
petitions released peace to air.
These petaled notes of lavender
this sweetness I could hear
spilled bucolic blessings
when my vision welled with care
with the children, all the children
wearing flowers in their hair.



 

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