by Mary Folkerts
TRANSPLANTED
I once was a sapling
planted in the backyard,
next to the lupins
and peony bush,
where a carpet of lush
green grass tickled my roots.
Here I stood, proud and
unproved,
sheltered in the shade of a
big maple tree.
My roots grew shallow
and superficial,
competing for meager
drinks of Sunday morning
showers and perhaps
a midweek trickle,
if drought season proved
particularly severe.
When west winds whipped
my branches,
(for even suburbs endure
sudden tempests),
shredding my pale
leaves in a summer
storm,
I clung to the clods of earth
under my spindly feet,
gripping with all my feeble
strength to keep
anchored
in my bed of ease.
Yet I have heard of trees,
massive and gnarled,
growing wild on rocky outcrops,
canyons and rugged terrain—
weathered and unsheltered,
lashed by winds
and battered by rain.
And still, they stand unshaken.
MARY FOLKERTS
Mary Folkerts is a farmer's wife and mom to four grown kids, living on Canada's southern prairies, where the skies are vast and the sunsets are stunning. Mary writes with a desire to push back the dark, especially for those struggling with anxiety and depression. She is also an advocate for those with Down Syndrome, as their youngest child introduced them to this extraordinary new world. Mary’s forthcoming poetry collection, Steady My Gaze, debuts with The Way Back Books in 2027.