The Choice

She walked us through the forest rain onto some desert ground
And told us that a plant was there, alone, if we looked ’round.
She said we had to choose today how we were going to act:
Decide to take or leave the plant then happy be with that.

I knew ‘toot-sweet’ just what to do – or had already done
I turned back to the forest trail from where we had begun
I left plant there – it’s not my care – I’ve other fish to fry –
Those pictures at the beach that day, I had no time to try.

The picture made from chalk and wax was viewed through camera frame
With mental markers on the spots I’d shoot the scene as changed.
Those spots for me, were plants you see, up-springing now to life
It’s ‘off to Costa Rica’ now, with camera and my wife.

What clarified for me today was choice already made
Not lolling ’neath a palm tree there, enjoying summer shade –
Engaging with aesthetic life both human and the view
Then capturing with camera lens to share it then with you.

The desert life, such as it was, is not the life for me
Though I’ve been planted way out there far distant from the sea
I love the water, trees and rocks, the beach's shale and surf
Of all the places dear to me, they center there on earth.

But more than that, that ugly blob that lurked outside my tent
Is gone away some other place, this peace is heaven sent.
Through desert I have travelled on my journey yes-siree
But that’s not hearth and home for me – more water, like the sea.

Now as for that wee lonely plant that grows on desert bare
I’m sure it will make out just fine – ‘survivor’ if you care.
Each person is entitled to life where and how s/he wants
But desert life, for me, ’tis true, is not my chosen haunt.

Perhaps it’s just I make my mind up quickly once I see
But I think rather it was made up long ago by me.
It took this gift of shifting trauma left in therapy
To leave me free, unburdened now, to be the choice that’s me.