Tony to His Pot Plant
I’ve lifted off with a smile
and want nothing in return.
Oh, your feathery-green leaves,
your stigmas, your flowers –
flourishing glory!
These sap-filled stems,
the cola coated in floral cluster,
drawn in over measured years,
have led to levitation.
From on high your cupping buds
have become my transport.
But I confess, dear common weed,
blooming marvel,
on some smoke-infused days,
my vision turns inward,
veers downward and I pause
to listen to your language
coded on waves I’d like to break:
“I’m medicinal, not cynical.
Ride your highs and your lows;
you’re entitled to drift,
relax your frame,
and spend some time inside
your dream machine,
with its strobe-like enhancers,
to conjure the connections
between yourself and you
and the sacred life of my florets
and pistils. You filled your pipe
above the verdant valley.
Your gait proves my presence
in the tokes taken.
My fan leaves, my sugar leaves,
coated as they are,
wave to you, treasured smoker.”
Barry Wallenstein is the author of eleven collections of poetry, most recently It’s About Time (2021) and in 2020, Time on the Move, and Tony’s Blues. Read more.