I prepped plants with a fury that frightened my spouse.
Agaves were wrapped in old towels with care,
So heavy in boxes that movers did glare.
Crassulas snug in nests of paper towels,
I was up all night packing, listening to the owls.
Some plant boxes piled in the big moving truck,
Others sent via post (I was wishing them luck).
My wife did her best to tune out all my chatter,
And my friends surely thought I was mad as a hatter.
But to the Northeast my plants trekked by and by,
As I climbed on the plane and got ready to fly.
I would meet my dear plants at the end of the flight,
And hope to the heavens they'd turn out all right.
If they all died, I'd shoulder the blame.
And as we traveled eastward I whispered their names.
Now lithops! Now aloes! Now little gasterias!
On ariocarpus! Astrophytum asterias!
Now haworthias glauca, pumilla, truncata!
On tephrocactus and aloe striata!
Most were bare-rooted, but still I did fret,
About all my plants and their tiny plantlets.
As soon as I got to our house in Zone 5
I tore open boxes to see what was alive.
I will not lie--there had been some attrition,
But I lined up pots, got my dirt in position.
I potted with fury, I planted with skill,
I set plants on shelves and on each windowsill.
Laying my finger aside of my nose,
I sized up the damage and set plants in rows.
I was covered in soil, from my foot to my head,
Just gratified not all my wee ones were dead.
Thanks to my wife, who is rather indulgent,
We now have a plant room, with succs so effulgent!
You can hear me exclaim, pretty much every night,
"Happy Zone 5 to all, and thank God for grow lights!"