The plastic propagator holds its precious life,
The first flush of summer light
April air warming its shell
Creating a mist of condensation.
Contents stirring gently as the dampness swells
Water mixing with air and settling
On the fresh flesh of the young
No murmur, no breeze, a stillness too pure
Pale flesh, tinged with blue, bruised.
Gentle touches, care, love,
Needing to gently encourage
The new growth
The fleece, furry on base,
The softness contrasts against the rigidness of the plastic,
The sharpness of the carcass against the new life germinating inside,
A weak limb held in place
The young fighting for strength
Eternally hopeful, eternally love.