THE AVOCADO TREE ON THE NORTHWEST CORNER OF MY HOME

April 15, 2022 / John Grimmett

I.
I keep waiting for you to bear fruit.
It has been several years,
and nothing.

When will you grow up?
When will I stop having to wonder?
When can I rest?

It is an injustice to be a parent.
It is an injustice to be the child.
It is an injustice to watch
and wait
for roots to inch their way downward
into nothingness.

II.
Patience:
when the only precipitation
to nourish your roots
is acknowledging what you cannot know.

III.
The guy who mows our lawn
thought you were a weed.

He mowed over you without a second thought.

And that’s how you exit this world:
a thing I loved
(past tense)
and an investment
I will never get back.

Not one avocado grew.
How will I ever prove that you existed?

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