The Fern’s Debut
The Fern’s Debut
It turns out the fern had been rehearsing,
leaning over a broad leaf,
deep in a serious shadow puppet performance,
as if the outcome mattered greatly.
At first, I imagined it trying to make rabbits or dogs,
only to discover the limitations
of not having opposable thumbs—
a rather serious handicap in the shadow puppet world.
But after a moment’s sulking,
it found its own repertoire:
the ragged edge of a saw blade,
a row of tiny cathedral spires,
and, if you squint,
the claws of a horror flick creature,
creeping toward its next victim,
thirsty for a scream.
And when the scene was finished,
the fern leaned lower,
as if bowing to a silent audience—
the leaf, the air,
and me,
its sole witness.