Day three of thirty in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.
When urban deer,
well adapted to our city ways,
casually grazed everything
else to the ground last year
my milkweed survived unscathed,
their pearly glue-like sap
a genius survival trick.
I watched each day for monarchs.
Two appeared eventually.
I planted these just for you,
spread the word, I would have said
if I spoke butterfly.
Spring again. Green shoots
break through and my
watchful gaze is renewed.
Soon emerald leaves will unfurl
spreading like hands in supplication.
I hope the plea is understandable
to the monarchs:
I’m here to serve. Please come.
Bring your friends.