In a room large and airy

It rested upon a round glass table,

Glass thick as a volume of Hardy

And beveled carefully, top and bottom edge.

The glass itself rested upon a delicate wooden frame

Spun upon the lathe, the legs, to bring to mind

Bamboo joints, and stained a ripened cherry.

The table sat within a wide-bay expanse of glass,

Two legs upon a creamy rug and

Two upon a thick planked floor.

The bay faced directly north,

But a window to the west provided all the light

The jade plant would every want.

And in that light oblique,

Under the warmth and care of a loving woman,

It prospered unlike any I have ever known, or ever will.

Luscious, succulent leaves lightened the entire room, 

As they covered every growing branch,

Until the glass itself was nearly gone.

There was nothing in that elegant room

Which shed such light as those green leaves.

In the heat of summer the plant 

Looked to be consuming light most gluttonously; 

In the mid of winter it returned the warmth as a favor.

No one could enter that room 

And not know the gift before them.

During our holiday the plant was removed

To a sideboard, where it sat until the New Year,

The glass top and table being away 

To freeze within the dormant summer porch.

In its stead a ceiling-scraping pine,

And the room glowed joyously,

Even more at night when the eight windows of the bay

Reflected back the colored lights upon the tree.

If ever on this earth there was a prettier room

I’ll not believe it, and now it is gone. 

Glass and table, gone. Colored lights, gone. Jade plant, gone.  

And I wonder in what room it resides, if at all,

And I wonder who might love it, 

And if it has light and water enough,

And if it gives joy. 

~~~

c. 1999