Before the lacy veil of curtains
and eclipsing the linear sketch
of bare branches beyond
a vessel, sunny as it’s origins
contains a struggling plant
Its roots entombed in solid soil
strangled and entwined
embrace despondently
in the winter light.
Each morning I greet the day
welcomed by that tableau
and promise again
to free that captive
but life invites
pursuits entice
and there it struggles still
Beatrice Dahlen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-portuguese-pot/
