Date Written: June 8, 2014
Let me tell you/
about the plants and the bees/
’cause I bet your papa never told you/
that love hangs from trees.//
The saying “love grows” is true./
Believe me, I know:/My grandfather was a farmer/
who’s hands tilled the earth/ to give love a home/ although
ten mouths to feed must have been tough-
Still, he raised them with love.//
It’s strange how love works that way;/
how it works out when you least expect it to…/
Like the moment two gametes meet./
The desire for variation is encoded in our genes./
When boy meets girl,/
one set of chromosomes become two-/ it’s true,/
when they say “you complete me” they mean it.//
But plants don’t speak,/ so they seek instead/
a Cyrano to serenade their love/ delivered by bees and birds-/
not quite words but that’s okay/ because flowers
speak a language carried through alternation/ of generations before them.//
Love can flower and bear fruit/
that hangs out on a limb/
because love is also about sacrifice./
Flowers wither/ and fruit rot,/
but love can still remember what happens when two gametes meet.//
So let me remind you of the plants and the bees,/
How love can be grown and hung on trees,/
And no matter how cold and dormant it may be/
Love can grow – from even a seed.//