Suspended

Like the Morning Glory in my garden,
suspended on the strings
of its planter box frame

my soul reaches for the
freedom of the air and sky.

With their blue petals
looking upward,
my flowers
wind away their leaves
from their roots beneath
in the moist, dark soil.

I breathe, I look
to the sweet expanse
of sky above,

while my feet
feel the wet morning grass
below.

Trudi Ralston
August 14th, 2012.

This poem was written because of the realization that at times there is a startling similarity between our destiny and frame of mind, and the seemingly sympathetic  destiny of the plants we surround ourselves with.