212: Adopted Orchid

I adopted an orchid when I moved in. The stalks had been cut, leaving withered brown sticks next to four dark green leaves. The roots clustered beneath them, and moss and fungi sprouted from the soil. A baby leaf the size of a nail stuck its head up from the centre of the leaves. I placed the pot on my windowsill to give it light. At first I saw no outward change. I watered it sporadically. But by Christmas two new stalks had sprouted. One looked ready to bloom. The baby leaf reached as tall as any of the rest. Aerial roots twisted out over the rim of the pot. Then winter hit. One of the stalks and an aerial root began to frost over, withering into shrivelled strings like melted plastic. The rest were threatened by the cold. When I noticed, I moved the pot to the nearby bookshelf. Today I saw that the second stalk has turned towards the window. The aerial roots grow upwards. The leaves slowly tilt. There is still time for one more flower before I leave.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.