And we approached courteously.
And eyed his windowsills of product,
And patiently heard his offers of plenty.
He told us that spring brings him stress,
The roots crack his pots from within.
But people like their plants to be potted,
And they all know where to find him.
I turned my head down and chuckled,
And plucked a leaf from my girl's hair,
And crumbled it in my fingers,
And remembered the tree that put it there.
