The Power-Plant of the World
June 23 2009


I recall endless summer —
sticky heat,
black-top
softening at a 100 degrees,
and hard-baked fields
with base-paths worn to ruts.

But now, I notice its intensity.
Just a few weeks, it seems;
and days so long
the sun barely sets —
twilight, more than darkness.

I could pull up a chair,
watch hostas
unfurl before my eyes,
grass multiply,
trees erupt.
Or put my ear closer,
and hear the ratchet and squeak
of asparagus
growing.
Chlorophyll is ferocious,
sucking-up light
churning–out sugar
fragrance
cellulose
— the essential molecule,
the power-plant of the world.

An evening thunderstorm.
They will drink it in
greedily;
and then, at dawn
race head-long to the sky;
crowding-out, straining higher,
shallow roots
competing for the richest earth.

And in this short fierce summer
we, too, are determined;
soaking-up the sun,
scratched, and bitten, and burnt.