I hear it said that a plant could outlast me,
little green chump in a jar could outlast me,
little stick nothing thing I have to water
could live a lot longer than I.
I know some trees and some plants have got big
for thousands of years before me have got big,
with nobody’s little stick fingers to water them,
with nobody’s aching back.
I know my kind has been feeding them, though
for as long as we’ve needed to be useful, I know,
been giving them our little watering help
with everybody’s fertile bones.
But I have to water this tyrannous baby,
this unwavering grandfather future-prone baby,
’cause we all think singular instances
shouldn’t be allowed to die out.