“I’m sensitive to light,” she writes,
and says she loves the way the plants
hold the light, a jungle glowing
and I think of my mama and daddy
and how I hopped rows of plants
at Clegg’s Nursery on Sunday afternoons,
when they liked to look and name
and dream and I liked to jump, and how
all these years later, I have heirloom
plants, richly green, a “plant room,”
she says, she doesn’t know what else
to call it, and a rocking chair,
and good light for writers.