In Perpetual Spring
by Amy Gerstler
(published in her book, Bitter Angel, North Point Press, 1990)
Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of
spiky voodoo lilies  Â
and trip over the roots  Â
of a sweet gum tree,  Â
in search of medieval  Â
plants whose leaves,  Â
when they drop off  Â
turn into birds
if they fall on land,
and colored carp if they  Â
plop into water.
Suddenly the archetypal  Â
human desire for peace  Â
with every other species  Â
wells up in you. The lion  Â
and the lamb cuddling up.
The snake and the snail, kissing.
Even the prick of the thistle,  Â
queen of the weeds, revives  Â
your secret belief
in perpetual spring,
your faith that for every hurt  Â
there is a leaf to cure it.