Panic throws up her
force field and solidifies
resistance to the truth;
denial hardens her
.
tortoise-shell exterior.
Her heart has been spared
in this temporary cocoon,
but greenhouse emissions
.
end up blowing a lot of hot
air, and little else of any
real substance. Her foray
into the real world
.
can’t be put off forever,
or she will stunt in her
space capsule, grow gangly
in her soul’s quest for
.
a fruitful life. She hasn’t
yet tasted sun skin to skin,
or roots flying free, or
she would break out.
Meanwhile, Melody Muses... 
That’s an intriguing glass house in the photo.
It’s a water jug with the bottom cut out of it. I reuse these for my tomatoes – they work just like a miniature greenhouse.
A glass water jug?
Plastic, actually.
Ah, okay; I thought it might be plastic but you made it look like glass. Clever!
Powerful poem! Her sights are set on the sun, and she’ll reach up with just a bit more growing!
Yay for her!!
I relate this to us humans!
Absolutely! My poetry almost always has more than one meaning – one literal and one a little deeper. I’m glad you catch the points which are hiding a bit! 🙂