on the porch overlooking willow
park, the july sun sits high.
it’s not the parsley
that’s bolting.
the cilantro has decided not to grow
its decidedly green leaves.
instead, i witness pale
yellow and pink leaves sprout
delicate, inedible flowers.
we should have pruned this plant
before the heat arrived in waves.
better yet, moved her away
to shade. we had everything right: tucked
cilantro seeds in a quarter inch of soil
in a deep pot, grew them two inches.
the soil we kept wet but not soaked,
week to week. her leaves huddled close,
a self-sustained warding of sun.
but we could not pluck her flowers now.
instead, we let them grow until light
green pods unfurled. and after one
hundred twenty days, we pinch
at her stems. we wrap her dry
flowers in gently knotted
paper bags, hang them upside
down. she gives us light brown
husks, promising coriander
seeds to try again next year.
