windowboxes

in another life
or city
this would be called
trespassing
poking your nose
where it doesn't belong.

but i am in this city
and this life
and today, feeling oddly at peace
in my taurean body,
and aware, for the first time,
of my desire to edit
this urban horticulture
i took the great plunge
dove into the mess
with the single thought
of making it better,
of prettifying a place that was not mine.
and discovered
what great reward it is
to pluck the dead flowers
from someone else's
windowboxes.

and though, with the dead stalks gone,
the remaining ones looked exposed,
susceptible to whatever harsh reality
had taken the rest of the plant away,
i wondered if the owner of these remaining flowers
would, now, with greater precision,
direct the watering can,
and if this new, naked space revealed, in fact,
that other, magnificent reality
of what was actually
quite possible again.