The plant growing in the kombucha bottle
Green spinning, twirling into a spiral,
fountaining over the glossy edge of the bottle.
Resting on the ledge,
chipped paint from the dog barking out the window.
New lips open, growing,
singing a symphony.
An unchoreographed dance that’s pushing and pulling.
Free in your own way.
The sun has glazed the edges of your leaves.
Drops of water linger on the edges.
These white lines holding you to the earth,
keeping you well.
Yellow, pale and sick.
I peel away the dying,
It’s left to sit in a dark void.
Keep pouring yourself out.
About the Writer
Mia Wood, Journalist
Mia Wood is a senior at CHS and this is her first semester on staff. When she’s not at school you can find her painting or experimenting with different art styles. She enjoys finding new music for her playlist, walking her dog, hanging out with friends and going on bubble tea runs with her twin brother who she uses as her personal chauffeur. She is looking forward to this school year and is glad to be back in person.
