Cracks

Two months have passed since my report on the few street plants tough enough to survive in Laramie in February.  But now it’s spring, and I’m sure that a strong urge to grow is swelling in many seeds hiding in cracks and crannies in concrete and asphalt.  Probably fresh young shoots are already out, determined to enjoy their moment in the sun.

But I’m not there to see it.  Instead, I’m in Grand Junction, Colorado.  Of course street plants are just as common here as in Laramie, and the growing season is much further along, so I had no trouble finding material for Lucy Corrander’s April street plants gathering.  [In fact I had too much. See Urban Plants, Urban Rocks: Premiere!]

This is a special post – a collaboration.  My host wrote a poem for the occasion!
Cracksby Danny Rosen

Between signing the agreement—and implementationstands a gulf where persistence reigns. In a dry landawash in weapons, things work out bestwhen the day listens to the Sun.Slowly, men continue to learn how to speakto women, and develop new capabilities to achievea competitive edge; new modes of perseverance.Cracks form – even where the Sun shines onlythree hours a day in late Spring. Weeds peek, climb,suck vague moisture, move minute nourishmentsthrough peristaltic pressures that, squeezing for light,widen cracks in sidewalks and life. Crackscracked by a fibrous yearning and racingagainst Summer’s descending clock; greenshoots break apart hard rock: Persistenceis a helpless choice; first comes water, then comes ice.

Danny Rosen is a poet in Fruita, Colorado.  His poems have appeared recently in San Pedro River Review, Comstock, Fruitapulp, Pilgrimage, Santa Fe Literary Review, and Malpais Review.  After working in geology, astronomy and education, Danny decided that making books would be a most useful endeavor.  He lives among dogs in the desert of western Colorado, where he runs the Lithic Press.