
I inherited a green thumb,
dormant in the years of youth
and I’ve only just begun
listening to the exhale
of the weeping willows.
A gentle knowing
of stillness that existed
long before,
an influence of the earth.
Resilience —
passed down through generations,
the gentleness of swaying.
To bend,
but never break.
Planet Detroit and Room Project partnered to curate and publish climate poems from our community. Read the rest of the poems here.