“I’m a docent at the Santa Monica Conservancy’s Shotgun House & occasionally conduct tours of the garden that surrounds the historic house. I am always happy to share the garden as a model of how native plants fit in urban gardens. On this occasion, I found myself smiling as guests discovered caterpillars of all sizes on the bare milkweed plants. I’m still smiling as I look back on that caterpillar experience.
—Hilda Weiss”
In front of a patch of denuded narrow-leaf milkweed plants
Yesterday I saw the men, grown men,
some with their wives, but also among strangers,
I saw them in a place they had never been before,
like visitors, guests, I saw them bunch up together,
but careful not to touch, careful to cause
no damage, careful to take turns,
to crouch, almost kneel, reach out,
entreat / honor / awe / amazed
I saw all that emanate
from their held breath,
their strong steady arms,
their looking, and photographing,
something they had never seen before.
What does “denuded” mean?
a woman asked.
“Stripped bare,”
someone said.
They had already seen the seedlings,
green and leafy, sprouting generously
close to the path, protected from errant
footsteps by a wire cloche.
But here were naked stems—tall, vigorous, lean
sticks, like boys stripped for a swim. They
were what was left of the visible—
the leaves gone to the business
of becoming Monarchs.